Cameron's Legacy
by LordsFire
Summary: The planet Caph, laid to near-total waste in the Star League Civil War, and first two Succession Wars. Cameron Ivo, brother of a geneticist killed during Operation Holy Shroud. Cameron's Legacy: mankind's future rebuilt, and Comstar in mortal peril.
1. Prologue

AN: This story got chewed on a little bat by 's formatting issues, but nothing too bad. Also, it was posted on the Spacebattles Creative Writing forums first, an excellent place to go for sci-fi/fantasy fanfiction, and some original stuff too.

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

March 12th, 2842.

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

New Caph Institute of Technology, Experimental Computing Building.

Cameron panted as he stared wide-eyed at the corpse in front of him. Well, half a corpse, really, the bottom half was missing. A part of his mind insisted that he should tease his sister about misplacing important things like, you know, _your_ _legs_, and a mad giggle escaped him. It didn't stop the other parts of his mind that were in a continued meltdown.

It was supposed to be a _party_. A celebration of the new beginning to Caph's prosperity, the recovery of an intact research core from before the Rim World Republic, and then the Great Houses, had gutted Caph's industrial and research facilities, not to mention two of her three primary landmasses. Angie had invited him along, as a little last social time together before he enlisted with the FedSun army, now that he had finished his Bachelor's, and he just hadn't had it in him to refuse, even if it meant being surrounded by eggheads all night.

Now most everyone was dead, and judging by the continued gunfire and occasional grenade detonation, death was stalking the rest. And stalking them in the uniforms of the Capellan Confederation's Maskirovka Elite Strike Teams. Cameron was no slouch with a gun himself, and had done some basic studies of infantry tactics in preparation for heading off to join the AFFS, but even the basics was more than enough to tell him that he was completely screwed.

He had no gun, or really any form of weapon at all, campus security and the small detachment of soldiers sent by the local garrison were either not present or already dead, and the tight quarters and clear lines of fire through the university hallways made attempting to flee suicide. He couldn't even try jumping out a window, as they were reinforced and bulletproof.

He laughed again; just enough security to trap him, not enough to make him safe.

His thoughts were still failing to distract him from his sister's corpse, however. Cameron had never seen death before, and his mind simply was not ready to accept Angie's death; she was only ten years older than him, twenty-eight, and just recently married, she had no _business_ being dead.

The first tears began to break free and run down his cheeks, and Cameron reached his large hand out to close his sister's eyes, then closed his own, weeping silently.

Time uncertain passed, Cameron too lost in shock and grief to keep track, leaning back limply against one of the banks of computer that populated the server room he and Angie had intended to hide in. He ignored the gunshots, shouts, screams, even the anguished wailing from outside.

It was only when a sobbing girl burst into the room that he was snapped out of his reverie, eyes opening as the girl entered the room. He made no other move, and the girl, who looked to be about twelve years old, paid him no attention, frantically looking around the room for a place to hide. Glancing down at himself, Cameron realized that he was rather thoroughly soaked in his sister's blood, and probably looked to be a corpse himself.

The girl was not fast enough, not that the room had a particular large number of relevant hiding places, as a pair of men followed her into the room.

"Hold her," The shorter of the pair growled in a Lyran accent, "And be quick about it."

"I know, I know," The taller of the two grumbled, revealing a slight Kentaran accent, storming across the room towards the girl, who had collapsed into a mass of incoherent sobs, "Self-righteous prick, Word-of-Blake, this, Word-of-Blake that. I don't see why we can't have a little bit of fun with them before we kill them."

For the first time since the gunfire had begun nearly an hour earlier, Cameron's mind went completely still. Three facts immediately came to the forefront of his mind with perfect clarity. First, there was no way a Fedsun and Lyran native would be paired together within the Maskirovka, even on the miniscule odds the organization employed extra-nationals. Second, it made little sense for a Maskirovka unit to conduct a raid _in uniform_ on foreign soil. Third, the two men in the room with him had just announced their intentions to gang-rape a twelve year old girl.

His moment of clear thought was interrupted by the sound of cloth tearing, and he turned his attention outward, to see one of the two 'Maskirovka' pinning the girl face down on the ground, his knees on the back, while the other finished tearing away her underwear.

White hot rage burned within every sliver of Cameron's being, and he silently rose to his feet. Standing seven feet and two inches tall, soaked with blade eyes wide with searing rage, Cameron would have been a terrifying sight to behold, but the men before him were busy.

Cameron decided to get their attention.

Striding silently up behind the shorter man, who was busy unbuckling his belt, Cameron reached out and grabbed him, one hand around the back of his neck, the other wrapped around his forehead.

Then he _pushed_ with one hand, and _pulled_ with the other, and the man's neck snapped.

The second man, no stranger to the sound of a human neck snapping, leapt to his feet, twisting in mid-air to face the impending threat, only to be caught in mid air by Cameron, the _much_ larger man's hands going around the operative's throat. Reacting swiftly, the man grabbed at Cameron's hands, kicking out at the Caph-native's legs as he tried to break Cameron's grip, but then he caught sight of the massive man's eyes, and froze.

Rage beyond words gazed at the would-be rapist through Cameron's eyes, rage so intense, so all-encompassing that the man felt that he was being held by a mere conduit of a greater force, a primal consciousness of anger that went beyond what was possible for mere men.

Then Cameron _squeezed_, crushing the man's throat easily, and hurled him aside negligently. The now-dying man tumbled across the floor, coughing and spitting blood as he tried desperately to draw breath that would no longer come, coming to a painful stop up against the corridor wall outside of the server room.

He lay there, gagging and clawing at his throat, until a pair of combat boots stopped directly in front of him, he looked up, and found his Captain's face scowling down at him.

"You never could keep it in your pants, could you, Deitrich?"

Dietrich attempted to gurgle a response, but was cut off by his Captain shooting him in the face with his shredder pistol. Scowling in disgust, the man turned to look into the server room, where he saw Cameron wrapping his shirt around the girl's waist, before turning to face the Captain.

"Thank you," The Captain said, nodding respectfully at Cameron, "For removing these scum from my command. They never understood that our work is an unfortunately necessary evil."

Cameron stood, cradling the still-sobbing girl in his arms like a baby, and just stared at the man.

The Captain sighed.

"I regret the necessity of your death," He said, "But I can at least grant you a swift and painless one. May you find the Peace of Blake in death, as you could not in life."

With that, he touched the server room's door control, and it slid shut. A moment later Cameron heard a sizzling sound, as something from the outside, though he was not certain what, spot-welded the door shut.

He stood there, silently, for long moments, motionless save for gently rocking the crying girl in his arms. After a few seconds, she latched onto him, her small arms not capable of wrapping fully around his torso, but making a good try of it, and cried quietly into his chest.

"A bomb," He abruptly said, "Leave the bodies with the uniforms, make it look like a failed attempt to cover it up, while destroying any chance of useful data surviving."

His eyes narrowed and he turned to stare at the banks of servers. Servers which were repurposed computers pulled from destroyed battlemechs, their casings designed to protect their contents from the rigors of battle. Gently setting the girl down on one of the chairs in the room, then carefully but firmly prying her arms loose, Cameron swiftly strode over to the room's utility closet, opened it, and retrieved a tool kit.

A mechanical engineer by both natural inclination and education, it took him less than a minute to remove the top from one of the server banks, and then sixteen seconds to tear out the contents via brute force. He then quickly strode across the room, and picked up the girl, then slipped her into the gutted server housing. Taking a moment to survey the surrounding room, he then surveyed the room swiftly, and spotted a portable memory module on the desk intended for the network admin's use in the server room.

Forcing aside the assault his emotions attempted upon him, he quickly looted his sister's corpse for her personal notepad, and paged through it as he returned to the desk, and the terminal it was attached to, looking for his sister's access codes. Quickly logging onto the system and accessing the downloaded contents of the recovered research core, plugging the portable memory storage into the terminal as he did so. The module had enough capacity for perhaps one and a half percent of the research data contained within, and, as he mentally counted down the time it would take for the strike team to evacuate to a safe distance from the building, he tried to choose what files to save.

The aspiring soldier within him screamed at him to retrieve Battlemech schematics, alloy formulas, or weapon designs, but the bloody notepad in front of him spurred him to look at his elder sister's corpse.

Angie had been a doctor, a geneticist as well as a general physician, and had intended to, and Cameron fully believed she would, develop treatments for a number of congenital defects that caused stillbirth and blue-births. After a long, pained moment of contemplation, Cameron crammed the memory module with as much genetic research data as he could, then retrieved it, and returned to his improvised bomb shelter, feeling the pressure of time bearing down on him.

Examining the hollowed server housing and the still-crying girl within it, Cameron decided the current protections were insufficient, and ripped several other server housings from their surroundings, laying them on their sides in a carefully arranged pattern. In two and a half minutes he moved fourteen server housings, making a box-formation on the floor with his chosen one in the middle on its side, three covering the bottom of it, and three near the top. Carefully lifting the limp girl within, he eased himself inside, wrapping himself around her as he did so, then reached out with one massive arm, and dragged the other three server units as close to the top of his as he could, before sliding the top of the casing into place again, and quickly mooring it in place as best he could from the inside.

Then, slipping the memory module into the girl's lap and wrapping himself around her for optimum protective ability. Finally, there was nothing more to do but wait.

After a long moment, he started softly singing a lullaby his sister had taught him to the girl he held.

He reached the third verse before the explosives detonated.

((()))

The Experimental Computing Building exploded in a massive fireball, sending shards of concrete and glass scything across the campus and shrieking into the air. The explosives, set into the building's basement, and at the core of every level, reduced the building, quite literally, to a crater. Debris falling across the campus and the surrounding city would cause more than a score of additional casualties, and it would take firefighters most the rest of the night to catch and put out all the spot-fires the explosion ignited.

In one of the landscaped ponds near the wreckage of the building, a trail of bubbles leaking to the surface abruptly gave way to an enormous man emerging from the pond, a trembling girl clutched in his grasp. He carefully surveyed the damage campus around him, sorting out his location with only minor difficulty, then strode purposefully towards the parking lot where he had left his groundcar.

((()))

It wasn't until the next morning, when Cameron woke the girl sleeping on his couch with breakfast, that she spoke.

"Why?" She asked, desperate need to know mixed with pain in her eyes.

"I don't know," Cameron said bleakly, "But I intend to find out."

((()))

The next day, Cameron visited the Comstar compound on Caph, to enquire about joining the organization.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

October 7th, 2847.

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Residence of Cameron Ivo and Amanda Dennings.

"How long?" Amanda asked, staring up at Cameron with wide, pleading eyes.

Cameron shifted uncomfortably. The girl, now sixteen years old, knew that it was hard for him to deny her what she asked when she displayed emotional vulnerability around him. That he knew she knew, did little to blunt the effectiveness of such tactics.

"I'm not sure," He said, looking away uncomfortably, "I'm not technically proficient enough to rise further through the regular ranks, and I'm more likely to find out what we want to know by joining ROM anyways."

Amanda scowled and looked away.

"I told them I wanted to wait until you started college," Cameron said, "Otherwise I would have had to go four months ago."

"If you'd told me that," Amanda said bitterly, "I wouldn't have pushed myself so hard to graduate early."

"And if you'd been graduating only one year early, or not at all," Cameron replied calmly, "It would have been leave immediately, or not at all."

Amanda scowled, still not looking at Cameron, and hunched in on herself. Cameron's heart bled for her, as it had so many times before, and he gently reached out and picked her up, sitting down and placing her in his lap as he had so many times over the last five and a half years. Just like she had the night they had met, she latched onto him, though this time her arms were long enough to wrap around his torso, and she held tightly to him.

"You need to learn how to function without me around to protect you," He said gently, but she just shivered, and clutched him all the tighter, "I've not been around you every hour of every day since you were thirteen anyways."

"There's a lot of difference between you being at work the next district over," Amanda whispered tearfully, "And being fifty-four light years away at Terra. That's nine days away with a command circuit, at high-G burn, and three weeks without."

Cameron sighed silently. One of the problems with playing adopted big-brother/guardian to a genius, was the genius _knowing_ so damn much.

"I know," He said eventually, "But this opportunity will not come again, and there is almost certainly no other way."

She heard the finality in his voice, and then the tears began.

"I'll miss you," She whispered quietly into his chest.

"I'll miss you too," He said quietly, losing a few tears himself.

They fell asleep on the couch together, Cameron still holding Amanda in his lap, something that had not happened since she was fourteen, when her night terrors had finally subsided.

When she woke the next day, he was gone.

((()))

Sol System.

Planet Terra.

November 28th, 2847.

Comstar ROM training facility, Australia.

"Now," The officer charged with training the most recent set of recruits said, "Which of you think you can best me? Weekend pass to Sydney for anyone who _can._"

_Purpose_, Cameron thought while the other trainees looked at the unconscious trainee the man had just bested, finding nothing desirable in a weekend pass, but in the officer's arrogance, he saw an opportunity.

"Sir," He called, stepping forward from the line of trainees, "Could I get a weekend of personal training from you instead?"

The officer laughed.

"Sure, big kid," The officer said, "Hell, if you can beat me, I'll train you every weekend for the next month."

Cameron nodded, stepping forward to meet the man.

Three minutes later, he had six broken ribs, victory over the officer, and the beginnings of a reputation within the Academy that would only grow over his six months there.

((()))

Sydney, Australia,

May 23rd, 2848.

Cameron's eyes opened. Six months ago, he was sufficiently skilled to make a competent soldier, but would never have been aware enough of his surroundings to have roused now. It was dark in his room, utterly dark, and deliberately so; in the absolute dark, night vision would reveal no more than his own eyes, and infrared lacked the detail to show that his eyes had opened, the only sign of wakefulness he had given.

Now, it was simply a question as to whether his senses, or the intruder's stealth, was more keen. The slightest whisper of movement sounded beside Cameron's bed, and his senses were proven the more keen.

A single fist lashed out at the intruder, but a single fist from Cameron was generally more than enough, and this case proved to be no exception. As the intruder bumbled across Cameron's modest hotel room, Cameron bolted out of bed, sweeping up his side arm and slipping on his infrared goggles.

His sidearm, a conventional slug-thrower loaded with AP rounds, cocked with a readily-recognizeable metallic click, and he held it steadily on the intruder.

"Why are you here?" He demanded.

"Lieutenant Lara Fetladral," The woman said, "Rho Branch, here for recruitment purposes."

"Do you start all your recruitment bids by creeping up on the potential in the night?" Cameron said.

"Yes," Fetladral said simply, "SOP in Rho Branch. We only take the best, and from this class, that's you. And now you've started to pass _our_ tests."

Cameron didn't know if Rho branch handled the sort of operations he wanted to know about, but he doubted the other branches were as demanding, and there was only one way for him to find out.

After he affirmed that Fetladral's story was legit, of course.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

September 15th, 2848.

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

New Caph Institute of Technology, Amanda Denning's Dorm room.

Amanda put the letter down, and couldn't decide whether to smile or cry. It was the sixth she'd received from Cameron since he left, and after working through the obtusely complicated cipher she'd made him memorize before he left, it revealed things she wasn't sure if she was happy about or not at this point.

Cameron was right, Comstar _was_ actively repressing the redevelopment of technology, and actively seeking to keep the various Great Houses from recovering caches of Star League technology. He hadn't seen any records of past missions, and being who he was, he wouldn't rest until he _had_ confirmed for certain if it had been a ROM mission or not, but it was more than enough to convince Amanda.

Now she just needed to decide what to do about it.

((()))

System Al Na'ir

Planet Al Na'ir

February 6th, 2849.

City of Homai-Zaki, Planetary Capital.

Just outside of 8th Dieron Regulars garrison base.

Cameron stared through the shaded window at the military installation across the street. This would be it, his first operation as part of the successor directives to 'Holy Shroud.' There were few such operations carried out, compared to the initial spree years ago, but Cameron's drive to draw attention to himself had backfired, and now he was expected to take part in it himself.

Doing what was necessary was hard, but Cameron knew he couldn't bring down all of the Blakist fanatics by spoiling a single operation; he needed to go deeper, learn _more_ than what he knew.

Hardening his heart, Cameron checked his weapon one last time, then fell in with his team.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

April 3rd, 2851.

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

New Caph Institute of Technology, Amanda Denning's Dorm room.

Cameron knocked on the door, and waited. He heard brief movement inside, before Amanda opened the door.

For a moment, she just stared at him, expression unreadable. Then she leapt at him, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she held him in a desperate embrace.

"Missed you," She mumbled into his chest.

"Ah," He said, rather startled by how much less of a child she looked after four years, "I missed you too."

"Now," She said, tugging on him, "Let's go sit down and you can tell me all about what you've learned."

((()))

Amanda was beyond shocked. What Cameron had just told her was completely at odds with the man she had known since she was eleven years old. Could four years away really change him so much?

"Why?" She eventually asked.

"Two reasons," Cameron said gruffly, "First. Because even if I took out the entire ROM team, and alerted the local Combine authorities, Comstar would still have been able to control the information, and I know they had a backup team somewhere on planet, which would have completed the op after killing me. Second, because in order to defeat Comstar as a whole, more is needed. _Much_ more, first amongst all, the ability to function independently of their communication grid."

"You still killed innocent people," Amanda said quietly.

"Yes," Cameron said gruffly, "I could argue they're soldiers, but as they are not in a declared war against Comstar, that makes no ethical difference. And I'll be doing it again. It'll be at least five years before I can climb the ranks enough to be taken off of field operations. I _will_ stop this crusade of Comstar's, but it will be a long and bloody process. I have a plan, one that I would like your help with, but it will not come to fruition in either of our lifetimes."

He paused for a moment, and when he continued, even looking away from him, Amanda could sense the painful tension in his voice.

"If you want no part of it, if you wish for me to no longer be a part of your life, I understand."

Amanda spent just over fifteen minutes trying to decide what to do, which, for someone with her IQ, was a _very_ long time. Eventually, she found that her personal loyalty to Cameron could look past even this.

"Promise me one thing," She said softly, "That you will never, _ever_ rape, that you will _never_ take pleasure in killing."

"I have already made that promise to myself," Cameron said gravely, "You can consider it made to yourself as well."

Amanda spun in place, the crossed her dorm room and planted herself in Cameron's lap again, holding herself to him as she had so many times before.

"Tell me then," She said, "How I can help this plan of yours."

"It starts with this," Cameron said gravely, holding up a small device Amanda was unfamiliar with, "This data module contains a copy of everything we took from Al Na'ir. It's mostly just metallurgical analysis of armor on a pre-Amaris SLDF prototype Aerospace fighter, but it's a start."

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

July 7th, 2856.

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace.

"Hello, Miss Dennings," Duke Peter Gustafson said, gesturing for her to sit on the far side of his massive desk, "It's nice to finally meet you."

"I'm honored, Duke Gustafson," Amanda said, "Most don't pay attention to researchers as young as me."

"Even in its prime," Gustafson replied, "Most of Caph's bright minds were finishing their first PhD at twenty-five, not their third."

"My mother did," Amanda said very quietly, and _that_ killed conversation very quickly.

Even the Duke's bodyguards looked uncomfortable. It was some time before the Duke broke the silence.

"I assume there was a reason you sought to replace Jones as my science advisor when he retired?" Gustafson said, "And it wasn't what the tabloids were suggesting?"

Amanda snorted at that. She was no vid star as far as looks went, but like most every young woman in her mid twenties, she was attractive. After smiling for a moment, she closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, there was an intensity to them that had not been apparent before.

"I sent you a package when our visit was scheduled," Amanda said, "I assume your security screeners have looked it over?"

"Yes," Gustafson said, retrieving a small electronic device from a drawer in his desk, "They tell me it's a bug-sweeper, and quite an effective one too."

"Please use it before I say anything more," Amanda said, at this point only half-surprising the Duke, who activated the device, and let it run its automated sweep.

Once it had finished, and chirped a negative response, he simply looked at Amanda, raising an eyebrow.

"That device," Amanda said, "Originally belonged to Comstar's ROM, Rho division. I got it from a contact I have within the organization. Rho division was also the organization responsible for the attack on NCIT that killed my mother, father, and dozens of the other brightest minds on Caph."

It took a moment for the Duke to formulate a response to that.

"It's something of a matter of public record," Gustafson said, "That the Maskirovka was responsible for that attack, though the Capellans, of course, deny involvement."

"According to that same record," Amanda said, staring the Duke forcefully in the eye, "That I was left at home from the party that night, down with a cold. Both are equally true."

The Duke leaned back in his chair, not breaking eye contact with the considerably younger woman in front of him.

"That's quite the accusation," He said, "But what possible motive would Comstar have for attacking a civilian research institution?"

"Their motivation," Amanda said harshly, "I am uncertain of. What I _do_ know is that Rho division has been engaging in a systematic repression of both the recovery, and re-development, of what is becoming known as Lostech within the Inner Sphere. They began with a five-year campaign called 'Holy Shroud' in 2838, which ended thirteen years ago. They've been carrying around smaller-scale specific operations ever since, using intelligence gleaned from supposedly secure HPG transmissions to locate and respond swiftly to discoveries ever since. My contact in Rho is still trying to track down the full details."

The Duke was silent for several long minutes before speaking again.

"Do you have any proof of this?"

"Yes," Amanda said, withdrawing seven portable data modules from an interior pocket in her jacket, and placing them on the desk, "My contact has been involved in seven such raids so far as part of Rho team, and each of these modules contains copies of the data first stolen, then destroyed, on those raids. Every major nation except for the Free Worlds League was hit in the raids my contact was personally involved in, and the Magistracy of Canopus was the most recent target hit. The modules contain the data, as well as list where they were stolen from, when, and the conditions and cover stories surrounding them as appropriate."

Silence passed for some time again before the Duke spoke.

"I hope you don't take it as an encroachment on your new appointment if I call Jones in to have a look at these with me?" The Duke said.

"Of course not," Amanda replied, "All I ask is that you don't connect those modules to any networked computers, ROM's E-war capabilities are prodigious."

"We can do that," The Duke said, nodding, "I'll have one of my men see you to your new quarters. I'll send for Jones immediately, in the meantime, please remain on the palace grounds."

"Yes, milord," Amanda said as she stood, recognizing the dismissal for what it was, then bowed before leaving.

((()))

July 12th, Duke's Palace.

This time, the Duke was standing when Amanda was ushered into his office, and his gaze was more considering than welcoming.

"Your story was confirmed at every level we were capable of investigating it at," He said without preamble, "I assume Cameron Ivo is your contact within ROM?"

Amanda nodded.

"Well then," The Duke said, "I am convinced your story is true. You're my science advisor, so tell me, what do we do with our scientific endeavours if Comstar is intent on violently suppressing our research?"

"Cameron has a plan," Amanda said, "One that has a great deal of detail needing to be filled in during the later stages, but is beautifully simplistic in the short run, insofar as the next two decades is the short run. The problem with trying to defeat Comstar, is its stranglehold on interstellar communications, and the utter ruthlessness it has already shown it is willing to act with. Even if we could convince Prince Davion of the truth about Comstar, Comstar would use a mass attack on its compounds within Suns territory to incite the other successor states against us for violating Comstar's precious 'neutrality.' Even if loyalists managed to seize most of the HPG stations on Suns worlds, we would never get them all intact, and Comstar would know which worlds were out of contact, and let our foes know.

"If we wish to break Comstar's power, we need to break its stranglehold on interstellar communications _first._ And for that, we'll use Comstar's so-called neutrality, and their ambitions to destroy the tech-base of the successor states, against them."

"I'm listening," The Duke said, sitting down as he gestured for her to do likewise.

"It starts," Amanda said, "With a political movement…"

((()))

Sol System.

Planet Terra.

June 29th, 2860.

Sydney, Australia.

Cameron stood silently in his new office. It had taken him eleven years of field operations to earn this promotion, and he was deeply, _deeply_ glad, in ways that he would never show while on Terra, to no longer be in the position to pull the trigger himself. Of course, he would still be giving the _orders_ that led to those deaths, but at the least, in operations planning, he could lead things more towards unobtrusive infiltration and sabotage, rather than crude smash-and-grab tactics.

Cameron had made a point in specializing in Material Operations, rather than Personnel Disposal, and the level of performance he demanded of himself placed him so far above his contemporaries, that he had received the posting he preferred. Besides, in Material Operations, he would be expected to work with the hardware more, and it wouldn't be as surprising for him to go digging through the archives.

Now, he could find out not only what Comstar was doing _now_, but what they _had_ been doing in the past, and see what kind of picture it painted for their intended future.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

August 19th , 2864.

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace.

"I assume, Miss Dennings," The Duke said as Amanda joined his family at the dinner table, "That there was more than a mere social call to your circuitously delivered suggestion I invite you to dine with my family?"

"Yes," Amanda said, her voice bleak, "Comstar is already working to push the Great Houses into a Third Succession War."

The Duke, his wife, and their eldest child, the only who had reached the age of majority thus far, all became very still at this announcement. A long minute of pained silence passed, and the Duke was surprised at the depth of pain he saw in his young advisor's eyes.

"That," He eventually said, his tone grave, "Is a whole new level of moral corruption, especially considering you can still smell the gunpowder from the end of the second."

"Comstar would start a war across the _entire Inner Sphere_, just to satisfy their messianic delusions?" The Duke's daughter burst out.

"According to Cameron," Amanda said, her voice strained, "Yes, yes they would. We need to kick things into high gear."

The Duke stared at the meal in front of him, his appetite having abandoned him. His wife had worked on this meal too, rather than just leaving it to the Palace cooks.

"I'll light a fire under the Luddite's organizers," Gustafson said bleakly, "Something about taking the outbreak of peace as an opportunity to prevent the next war or somesuch."

"Do you think they'll succeed in starting another war?" The Duke's wife asked quietly.

"Comstar handles the diplomatic dispatches for _everyone_," Amanda said roughly, "Even if the planned peace talks _do_ manage to get the Coordinator, the First Prince, the Captain General, the Archon, and the Chancellor all on the same planet to talk, Comstar will be handling the communications both before and after the meeting, and given their 'neutral' position, most likely be the 'mediators' for the talks as well."

The Duchess lowered her head, eyes closing. She looked a great deal older in that moment than she had when Amanda walked into the room.

"We need to do _something_ to try to stop this," The Duke's daughter said desperately.

"Cameron is stationed on Terra," Amanda said, "The talks will probably take place there. If anyone can get through to the various heads of state, he can."

Another long, painful silence passed around the table, eventually broken by the Duke, showing the pragmatism that was central to Amanda's respect for her planet's nominal ruler.

"Well," He said, "War may, or may not come, but letting dinner get cold won't change that one way or another, and I _never_ miss an opportunity to eat my wife's cooking pass me by. Let us eat."

And so they did, though conversation was somber for the rest of the night.

((()))

Sol System.

Planet Terra.

January 5th, 2865.

Hilton Head Island, North America

Cameron watched as the first of the Successor Lord's dropships lifted off. It came as no great surprise to him that Dainmar Liao had been the first to leave the peace talks, the Capellans had been developing a chip on their shoulder about being the 'smallest' of the successor houses ever since the Second Succession War began. Steiner and Davion were still talking, but it was doubtful anything meaningful would come of it, the two had never really been much at odds anyways, due to simple Stellar Cartography.

He wasn't sure if he had really hoped to find an opportunity to speak to any of the rulers when he took a week of leave to watch the talks, but some part of him must have, because it still hurt seeing that things had ultimately failed. So much for peace in his time.

Cameron Ivo was becoming tired of war.

((()))

Sol System.

Planet Terra.

October 6th, 2865.

Sydney, Australia.

"War is brewing, Ivo," Cameron's immediate superior said, glaring at the man, "Now is hardly the best time to take an extended leave."

_More like war is _being brewed, Cameron though, but gave no outward indication of his thoughts whatsoever.

"War _is _brewing," Cameron said, "And an old friend from my homeworld has asked me to come visit. She's an advisor to the Duke of Caph, are you familiar with the situation on my homeworld?"

"Peace protests have intensified," The officer grumbled, "Since the peace talks failed, the Luddites have started pushing for isolationist policies."

"Yes," Cameron said, "My friend wants someone she knows she can trust, who is a member of _Comstar_ to help her convince the Duke to withdraw from the Federated Suns. He's on the verge of caving to the Luddites pressure, but needs a neutral party to guarantee he won't just have Michael Davion send occupying forces to take the world back, or one of the other scavenger lords sweeping the planet up."

_That_ got his superior's attention, and the man spent a few moments in thoughtful silence.

"Leave is approved," The man said, "I'm taking this straight to Precentor ROM. This could turn into a wonderful propaganda tool, and the Primus will want to know if it succeeds."

"Yes sir," Cameron said, nodding respectfully to the man before leaving his office.

Inside, he wore a vicious smile.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

December 26th , 2865

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace.

'Hello," Cameron said, stepping into the residential portion of the Palace, "How've-"

He was cut off by Amanda jumping him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his chest.

"_Missed you_," She said desperately, her face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Cameron's mouth hung open, and incoherent sounds emerged from within. An amused chuckle broke him from his confusion, and Cameron looked past the woman he'd instinctively taken hold of, to see Duke Gustafson beaming at him. He began an attempted bow, but then aborted when the added weight of Amanda hanging onto his front nearly caused him to overbalance.

"Excuse me, Duke Gustafson," Cameron said, attempting to gently pry Amanda off of him, "But I seem to be somewhat impaired just now."

"Don't worry about it," The Duke said, "I've had more than enough time to become accustomed to Amanda's eccentricities," He paused a moment before continuing, "Though I've never seen her _quite_ this exuberant."

"You've never seen me around Cameron, milord," Amanda said, "He's special."

"That," The Duke said, his tone much more serious, "I would have to agree with. Not many men have the sort of mettle and self-control required for the sort of deep-infiltration mission you've been on, and I know of _no one_ who would engage in an entire such operation purely by himself, without the backing or support of a greater organization or government."

"Damn straight," Amanda said, then began to clamber up and around Cameron's much larger frame, until she had seated herself on his shoulders, something she hadn't done for twenty years.

"Now," She continued, and pointed past the Duke, deeper into the Palace, "We have a planning session to attend. Giddyap Cameron!"

((()))

For the members of the planetary government in attendance, the meeting had been rather surreal. Over the past nine years, they had come to know Amanda as an intense young woman who was, bluntly put more intelligent than any two of them put together, and let _no one _talk down to her.

Now, while still entirely on the ball regarding the business at hand, she seemed more like a giddy little girl, having immediately seated herself beside the bear of a man she introduced as Cameron Ivo, and promptly scooted her chair directly next to his so she could _cuddle_ with the man. Amanda was all of five feet four inches tall, and was of the female body type that did not develop particularly heavily, but was also slow to show physical signs of age. Cameron was seven feet two inches tall, and a decade her senior, just beginning to gray around the fringes of his hair. Between her childish and affectionate body language, and the age disparity, it was only the utter lack of familial resemblance that kept them from looking like father and daughter.

For the women in particular, that lack of familial resemblance was quite a relief, as it was fairly obvious to the other women at the table that her affection for the older man was more than merely friendly.

"So in summary," The Duke's PR advisor said, "The apparent civil unrest is perceptibly intense enough to justify me attempting to pull Caph out, but, outside of the capital at least, mostly media exaggeration."

"And what about Comstar?" The Duke asked, turning to Cameron.

"Comstar wants this," Cameron said, deep voice rumbling in his chest an causing a faint smile on Amanda's face as she cuddled up against him, "_Badly_. I received a message from the Primus himself as I was heading out to the jump-point. They see it as potentially being a huge propaganda coup, and setting a first example for every other world in the Inner Sphere. It hasn't even occurred to them that we might be manipulating them to our own advantage."

"Megalomania is very blinding," Amanda put in darkly.

"Indeed," The Duke said, nodding, "Now all that remains is a matter of timing. _When_ do we make our move?"

"Wait for opportunity to strike," Cameron said promptly, "It won't be long until the third Succession War starts, and the more spontaneous we seem, the less likely someone is to look more deeply at things. The only problem that leaves, is what to tell Prince Davion."

"Leave that to me," The Duke said, "He's my liege-lord, and it's my responsibility."

((()))

January 1st, 2866, early AM

Amanda Denning's quarters, Duke's Palace.

"You've done well," Cameron said, smiling as he surveyed Amanda's somewhat lavish quarters, "I'm glad to see your hard work has been well-rewarded."

Smiling brilliantly up at Cameron, Amanda tugged him across her living room, towards the couch, then pushed him down onto it, and placed herself in his lap, curling up like a satisfied cat. It was well past midnight, like every night since Cameron had arrived on world, briefing the Duke and his men on ROM's intelligence practices and presence on world having taken up all of his time, every day thus far. This was, in fact, the first night that Amanda had been busy longer than Cameron, but she had asked him to wait for her own unexpected meeting with the Duke to end, and then had led him off to see her personal quarters for the first time since he had arrived.

"I'm just glad you're finally home," Amanda said, reaching around behind the couch to retrieve a bottle and pair of shot glasses that had clearly been pre-prepared for this encounter, "It's been so long, and coded letters just aren't enough."

She handed him one of the glasses, then poured them both a shot of amber liquid, before setting the bottle aside and curling in closer to Cameron.

"I've missed you," She said quietly, sipping her shot.

"I've missed you too," Cameron said, hugging Amanda gently, then downing the shot in a single gulp.

With their comparative body-mass, it was about as intoxicating to him, as her sip had been for her. Minutes of companionable silence passed between the two of them, Amanda refilling his glass a few times as she gradually sipped through her own.

"I'm keeping you, this time," She eventually said.

"What?" Cameron asked, confused.

"I know about your plans," Amanda said, "And I'm vetoing them."

"What?" Cameron repeated, still not understanding.

"I've been watching you," Amanda said, "Indirectly, I suppose, through your letters, but I've been watching you. You hate yourself."

Cameron said nothing in reply.

"You hate yourself for what you've done," She continued fatigue beginning to show in her voice, "You've killed people in cold blood, and you can't stand that, even if your purpose wouldn't let you stop."

She reached up and stroked his cheek.

"It wasn't hard to figure out what you were planning on doing, even if it _was_ monumentally stupid."

"And what is that?" He asked tightly.

"You were going to go get yourself killed, of course," Amanda said, "Go back to ROM, 'snap,' and kill as many of the rest of Rho division as you could manage before they got you."

Cameron looked away, for some reason he was not entirely clear on, feeling ashamed.

"Don't worry," Amanda said sleepily, cuddling into him again, "I've taken care of it."

She yawned.

"Liao Jumpships arrived in system two hours ago, and began burning for Caph. The Duke is setting things in motion, and by the end of tomorrow, Caph will officially be a neutral world."

"But," Cameron began, fatigue slowing his own voice.

"Don't worry," Amanda said, even as her eyes began to close, "You'll be here, with me, until its all over."

Cameron tried to stand up, and rather abruptly found that the growing fatigue he'd been experiencing was not natural. He spent the rest of the time until he fell asleep staring in disbelief at Amanda, who had _drugged_ him.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

January 12th , 2866

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Comstar compound.

"It's all yours now," The tired-looking acolyte said, "What's left of it anyways, Precentor Caph."

Cameron felt beyond strange being addressed as 'Precentor.' It was a command title within Comstar, Precentors reported only to the First Circuit and the Primus, a title he had never _wanted_ to carry.

Sensing his thoughts, Amanda tugged at his hand pointedly, and Cameron sighed, then addressed the Acolyte.

"Thank you, George," Cameron said, "I suppose I'll just have to get used to a more… _sedate_ posting."

"Yes, Precentor," George said, looking at Amanda for a moment before returning his gaze to Cameron, "I suppose even spooks retire."

"He'd _better_," Amanda said pointedly, glaring up at Cameron, "He's not running off planet to get away from me anymore!"

The Acolyte snorted, desperately trying to contain both his laugh, and his grin, but only partially succeeding.

"You're dismissed, George," Cameron said with an air of aggravated patience.

"Of course, Precentor," George said, bowing slightly before leaving, with a single parting shot over his shoulder, "I'd hardly want to take your time from your wife."

Cameron turned to deny the man's claim that Amanda was his wife, but was cut off by Amanda climbing up his body to sit on his shoulders again. It both confused and warmed him that despite all the instincts for combat he'd developed and honed over the last two decades, his instinctive acceptance of Amanda's intimate familiarity with his body was unchanged.

"Well," Amanda said, once she was comfortably situated on his shoulders, with her arms resting on top of his head, "Now that you have your own domain, Lord Ivo-" Cameron could _hear_ the smirk in her voice, "Who will be the lady of your realm?"

"It's not really mine yet," Cameron said after a moment, "Comstar's dropship doesn't lift for another six hours, and they won't be out of system for a week after that, not to-"

"Oh, be quiet," Amanda said playfully, bopping him on the head, "The Duke insisted that Comstar's remaining facilities be under the stewardship of a native, _specifically_ you, it's _yours_."

Cameron said nothing in response; he knew a losing argument when he saw it.

"Besides," Amanda said, "You're missing the main point. I'm asking you to marry me."

Cameron started underneath her, and she giggled.

"Uh," Cameron said, half-stuttering as he looked up at her and she smiled impishly back down at him, "Doesn't the man usually ask the woman?"

"Yes," Amanda said, taking his head in her hands, then, in a feat of impressive flexibility, bending far enough forward to land an upside-down kiss on his lips, "But you hate yourself too much to do it anytime soon, and I'm thirty-five years old. I'll only be able to have your babies for a few more years, so we don't have any time to waste."

Cameron was reduced to stuttering incoherency by Amanda's words, jaw hanging as he stared up at the woman perched on him, who just giggled.

((()))

Sol System.

Planet Terra.

February 20th, 2866

Hilton Head Island, North America

"What is your final analysis on Caph?" The Primus asked.

"We left Cameron Ivo in charge of the HPG," Precentor ROM said, "The locals wanted him because he's a native. What they don't know, is that he served in Rho division of ROM."

The Primus laughed.

((()))

Same time, HPG compound, Caph.

"Alright," Amanda said, eyeing the guts of the Hyperpulse Generator, "Let's start pulling it apart, and see how it works."

((()))

New Avalon, undisclosed location, undisclosed time in 2868

"My men tell me you have a message for me," Michael Davion said, eyeing the unimposing man standing between a pair of guards in his office.

"Yes, milord," The man said, "I bear a message for you from Duke Gustafson, who sent me on the last non-Comstar dropship to leave the world. It concerns Comstar, and more specifically, the Rho division of their ROM organization…

((()))

End of Prologue.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1, Time's Cradle.

(Or, Amanda has lots and lots of babies.)

System Beta Cassiopeiae (Common usage: Caph)

Planet Caph.

January 6th , 2867

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Former Comstar compound.

One hundred and fifty people were crammed into the conference room, which, before extensive remodeling, had been two conference rooms and two junior acolyte's quarters. Now, it was populated by the current best scientific minds and practical engineers on Caph.

"Alright people," A noticeably pregnant Amanda Ivo said, reaching into a bag slung over her shoulder, and placing a series of data modules on the large conference table, "You've all been briefed on just why Caph has cut itself off, and what Comstar and Rho division have been up to for the last thirty years. These," She indicated the data modules she was still unloading onto the table, "Contain copies Cameron made of every bit of stolen data he could get his hands on, as well as what little remains of the Memory Core here on Caph recovered back in 2841."

She finished placing the data modules on the table, more than fifty in total.

"We've got material on genetics, biology, jump physics, weapon design, optical computing, Aerospace design, industrial automation, fusion plants, HPG's, and, more than anything else, materials science. To those of you in more industrial and military fields, it will come as no surprise that apparently, a lot of what the Inner Sphere has lost since the Star League fell, was the ability to fabricate the materials necessary to _build_ 'lostech.'"

"Damn straight," Calvin Joliet, a grizzled old mechanical engineer on the far side of the table said, "_I_ still remember the foundries from before 2789."

"Good," Amanda said, "Because recovering that technology is going to be one of our highest priorities. The Duke, Cameron, and I have come to an agreement as to what the primary focus of our efforts should be, and they fall into three categories. First, is industrial and agricultural automation. During the Star League era, automated machinery played a much larger role in manufacturing and agriculture, requiring less of the work force to be dedicated to simply feeding, sheltering, and clothing society. The larger proportion of our work force we can dedicate to pushing forward advancement the better."

"You're looking for exponential growth," Alvis Camnon, a Geneticist, said.

"Exactly," Amanda said, nodding to the man, "The second is Materials Science, because, as previously stated, most everything we've lost is dependent on advanced alloys and composites involved in their manufacture, not to mention that more efficient materials will help improve on what we already have."

Amanda looked around the table, seeing heads nodding, then continued.

"Finally, we need to rediscover how to build Kearny-Fuchida Jumpdrives, and start manufacturing Warships."

_That_ brought a murmur of surprise

"The Successor States are pretty much dry of Warships," Amanda said, "Most were trashed in the First Succession War, and unless they're hiding a few somewhere, the Second took care of the rest. I've looked over the old profiles, and even a _Corvette_," Amanda put particular stress on the word, "Would be able to take out an entire _fleet_ of Jumpships, and attending Dropships, provided none of the Dropships were configured with Capital-class weapons. And even if they _were_, there'd have to be a hell of a lot of them to bring down a Warship, rather than just damage it."

Amanda swept her gaze up and down the room before continuing again.

"In short, it's a long goal to reach for, but if we can launch even _one_ Warship that's even _close_ to Star-League era specifications, we'll have an iron-clad defense against predation from the Great Houses. Or, for that matter, Comstar."

Silence reigned at the table for long moments while that sank in.

"These are the primary fields of study," Amanda said, passion beginning to rise in her voice, "Terra originally developed almost all of the technologies we are still working off of to this day, over the course of less than a hundred and fifty years. For those of you not up on old Terran history, let me be clear on this, Earth went from _Steam_ power and the very _bare_ bones of industrialism, to the completion of Jump Theory in one hundred and fifty years. Less than seventy years from the invention of controlled flight, to landing on Terra's moon. Almost a_ll_ of this development came from Europe and North America, until the very tail-end of that time period, which comprised something like five hundred million people.

"_We_," Amanda pressed on, "Already have a scattershot of _everything_ that ever came from Terra in our everyday society, as well as a lot of what we'll need to recover the rest in recovered data from the Rho raids. We're playing the long game here, folks, the Duke's objective is for us to float a Warship within fifty years. The current population of Caph is just under a Billion, so we've got more people than Terra did. We have the data, the people, as well as the fact that we _know_ it can be done, because it already _has_ been. And most importantly, we no longer have an organization of deluded megalomaniacs actively trying to suppress our development."

Amanda's eyes burned with passion as she finished.

"There is _no reason_ we can't do this. So let's _do it_."

"Damn straight," Calvin Joliet said again.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

January 8th, 2867

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace.

"Good morning, sir," Cameron greeted as he stepped into the Duke's office, "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," The Duke said, smiling and gesturing for Cameron to seat himself, "I've got a bit of a project I'd like to get you in on."

"What's that?" Cameron asked as he sat down carefully, wary of crushing another chair with his abnormal enormity.

"Well," The Duke said, "Considering that you are currently the only member of Comstar," Cameron rolled his eyes at that, "Who works at the HPG station, and its net traffic is zero, and _will_ be zero, until such time as we need to scream to Comstar that someone is violating our neutrality, I figured you'd have the time to work on something else.

"And that would be?" Cameron asked.

"That," The Duke said with a slightly unsettling grin, "Would require a bit of explanation. Are you familiar with the general population growth rates across the Inner Sphere, and Caph in particular?"

"Marginal at best," Cameron answered promptly, "More frequently stagnant or in outright decline. Lower tech worlds tend to have higher growth rates."

"Indeed," The Duke said, "Something that Amanda drew my attention to, as well as the reasons behind it."

"I was under the impression that the marginal growth rates were due to the Succession Wars," Cameron said.

"No," The Duke said, shaking his head, "It's actually even more basic than that. It's a cultural matter."

"Cultural?" Cameron asked.

"Yes," The Duke said, and that ever-so-slightly unsettling grin returned again, "You see, children are expensive both monetarily, and time-wise. Especially in more advanced societies, were progressively greater quantities of education are necessary for a person to be able to meaningfully contribute to the workforce. This not only causes children to be a more expensive prospect, but also means that people are older by the time they are looking into procreation. Generally speaking, when a couple is already in their late twenties by the time they're married and settled sufficiently to think about having children, they end up deciding to go with only one or two children. The desire for heirs, and basic biological urges to procreate push people at least that far, but then they decide they aren't willing to sacrifice even more of their time and money for the sake of someone who doesn't even exist yet."

The Duke's grin grew as he continued to speak.

"On the other hand, those of certain, more deeply held, religious backgrounds tend to view children more directly as a blessing from God, and start having children sooner, and as many as they can get. Such families are more rare, but having four to a dozen children each tends to help even out the population."

"I assume you're going somewhere with all of this?" Cameron asked, warily eyeing the

Duke's almost manic smile.

"Quite," The Duke said, a laugh hidden in his voice, "You see, those viewed as heroes and role models within society, set social trends, and change cultural values. And since the reproductive rate is primarily the product of cultural values, and I am _not_ going to try to influence such via government policy or putting pressure on local religious leaders, and my wife is too old for more children, that leaves planetary heroes."

Cameron groaned, dropping his face into his hands.

"You want me and Amanda to make babies," He said, sighing.

"Why Mister Ivo!" The Duke proclaimed brightly, "What an _excellent_ suggestion!"

"Amanda put you up to this, didn't she?" Cameron said, looking up at the Duke.

"That," The Duke said, grinning madly, "Is entirely possible."

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

March 12th, 2867

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Infirmary.

"Congratulations, Mister Ivo," The nurse said, handing Cameron the boy from the pair of fraternal twins that Amanda had just given birth to, "You're a father."

Cameron took the baby, who was large for a newborn, but still tiny in his enormous hands, and cradled him carefully.

"What will you be naming him?" The Nurse asked, smiling.

Cameron glanced at his wife, who was holding their newborn daughter, and giving him a meaningful look.

"Cameron Ivo Junior," Cameron said, sighing a little, "As the good woman insists."

"Darn straight," Amanda said, grinning tiredly at him, "You can name the next ones whatever you want. This one'll be Elizabeth."

"Next ones?" Cameron asked wryly.

"That's right," Amanda said, smirking, "If I'm not knocked up again the normal way in three months, I'm having it done in vitro."

Cameron just groaned, and decided to refocus his attention on his son.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

February 9th, 2868

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Caph Hyperpulse Station. (Former Comstar compound.)

"So nothing?" Amanda said, laying back in a recliner as she rubbed her swollen belly, "Nothing at all?"

"Unfortunately," Depak Vijora, head of the Jump Physics research team, said, "We're pretty sure we've got all of the mechanics of building a Jump Drive worked out, but we just don't have the ability to manufacture the materials to handle those kinds of energies. We need superconductors, and even if we cannibalized the HPG, we wouldn't have _enough_ of them to build a Jump Drive, even for a one-collar Jumpship."

"I suppose it can't be helped," Amanda said, pulling herself to her feet with a groan, and waddling out of the room, "Do what you can with the HPG in the meanwhile, and since you don't have much else to do, all of you go make lots of babies."

By the time Vijora had gotten over the shock of her words, Amanda had already left the room, and he couldn't ask if she was serious.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

March 10th, 2868

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Infirmary.

"James Ivo," Cameron said firmly, looking at the boy on his left arm, "And Thomas Ivo," He continued, indicating the boy on his right arm.

"And Jessica Ivo," Amanda said exhaustedly, holding the third child of the triplets in her arms.

A few moments passed, the only sound being that of the nurse filling out the paperwork regarding the three newborns.

"You're taking fertility medication, aren't you?" Cameron eventually said.

"Yes," Amanda said, guiltlessly, "And so are you."

Part of Cameron felt he should sigh, but more of him just smiled happily down at his three new children. Two had been exciting in and of themselves, now though…

He could get used to this.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae.

Planet Caph.

January 21st, 2869

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

New Caph Institute of Technology, Materials Science building (MSB).

"Bad news first, please," Amanda said.

A couch-bed had been added for the use of pregnant staffers, and was currently folded out with Amanda on one side, and Yukiko Sakamoto on the other. Both were substantially pregnant, though Amanda obviously more so.

"The bad news," Yukiko said, "Is that we're nowhere near what we need in the area of superconductors for the Jumpers. What we got from the data modules just wasn't anywhere close to what we need for Hyperspace work, and unless you're willing to let us disassemble the HPG, we don't have any physical samples to work with. It'll be at least ten years."

"Disappointing," Amanda said, "But not unexpected. What's the good news?"

"The good news," Yukiko said, "Is that we've developed a cheap reasonably durable ceramic that we can build civilian structures and, more importantly, roads out of, as well as rediscovered how to align materials for transparency, so in a few years that should bear fruit for the Greenhouse projects."

"That's good," Amanda said, and smiled over at the other woman, "All these little mouths to feed, we're going to need them. How's Judy?"

"Just finished learning to walk," Yukiko said, rolling her eyes and groaning, "Samo and I decided to hire Martha as a full time live-in sitter a month ago, and the others on both our research teams have been taking advantage of that as an opportunity to leave their kids at our place for most of the day."

"Charge them for it," Amanda said, laughing, "Or maybe you should all just rent from the same apartment complex and live together."

"You know," Yukiko said, her tone thoughtful, "That's actually a pretty good idea."

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

March 8th, 2870

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Infirmary.

"Just the one, this time," The nurse said to Cameron with a bit of a smirk, "Even your wife here has limits."

"I'm not sure if I should be relieved or disappointed," Cameron said, crossing the hospital room to sit beside his wife, who was holding their sixth child, a daughter, with a blissful smile.

"Hey," He said, laying a hand gently on her shoulder, "How you doing?"

"Spiffy," Amanda said, smiling at Cameron, "One is easy. The only downside to all this is I'm really only going to be able to go one more round before I'm too old, so Mandy here not having a twin substantially cuts into things."

"Junior and Elizabeth are almost three years old now, you know," Cameron said, "Don't you think you ought to slow down, so we can focus on the ones we already have?"

Amanda gave him _The Look._

"Cameron Ivo," Amanda said sharply, glaring up at her much larger husband, "You are fifty years old, and you aren't getting any younger. You suffer from Giantism, and aren't likely to live to the end of your sixties. I'm thirty-nine years old, and I'm really only going to have one more shot at motherhood, and I intend to make sure that I have as much of you sticking around with me after you're gone as I possibly can."

Cameron didn't really have much of a response to that.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

March 20th, 2871

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, The Ivo family's quarters.

.

"Sorry to make you come to me," Amanda said to Calvin Joliet ruefully, not even bothering to try to sit up, "But I'm not the most mobile just now."

She was, as a matter of fact, strapped to her bed, the straps secured in place with padlocks her husband refused to give her the keys to. Her abdomen was positively enormous, and after a near-fall the week before, Cameron had laid down the law I the only way he knew she would respect. She found it frustrating and touching both at the same time, and was also glad that her husband had been very particular about how their children were raised, as now Cameron Junior and Elizabeth were both respectful and responsible enough to serve as gofers for their mother while Cameron managed the other six.

Amanda had never met any of the men and women Cameron worked with during his time in ROM, but she was willing to bet they would have laughed themselves sick if someone had suggested to them that he would become a full-time stay at home dad. To her, it came as no surprise whatsoever; Cameron had been drowning in a world of death, and desperately hungered for a life full of _life_. Part of her reason for having as many children as she could manage, was so that Cameron would be all but _forced_ to be surrounded by bright smiling faces, who called him daddy, and told him they loved him.

She didn't at _all_ mind having the same benefits herself, even if her social life had almost disappeared. It helped that the Palace's cooking staff took care of food, but even with Cameron playing full-time father, her children still needed their mother.

Amanda abruptly realized she had been wool-gathering.

"I'm sorry," Amanda said, looking up at the grizzled old man in front of her, "I'm afraid I was woolgathering, what did you say?"

"Oh," Calvin said, chuckling, "Just wondering how long you'd be lost in happy-mommy land. I remember what it was like when my wife was there. Anyways, I've got good news for you."

"Oh?" Amanda said, perking up, "What's that?"

"We've finished two spacecraft designs," Joliet said, "One designed for asteroid mining operations, the other a Frigate-class Warship."

"A Warship?" Amanda said, startled, "But we haven't built a single Jump Drive yet!"

"No," Joliet said, chuckling, "But the Jumpers have a complete schematic for one, so we built that into our design, with an extra twentyish percent space in case tested designs end up needing more space."

"That's…" Amanda said, lost for words."

"Brilliant?" Joliet said, smiling.

"Yes!" Amanda said, "We don't even _need_ Warships that are Jump capable until we're ready to make contact with the Inner Sphere at large again, a system-capable Warship is _exactly_ what we need, as soon as possible! This is great, we'll be able to have a Warship in ten years, rather than thirty!"

"Not likely," Joliet said, gentle rebuke in his tone, "First we have to build a _shipyard_ capable of constructing Jumpships."

"Oh," Amanda said, deflating slightly, "Right."

"Don't worry about it," Joliet said, "Now that we know what kind of requirements we'll have of our construction facilities, my team is working on designs already, and Dropship manufacture has, as you know, already begun. Why don't you we forget about the work for the night, and you tell me about your munchkins?"

Amanda smiled, and did exactly that.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

April 1st , 2871

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Infirmary

Triplets, this time, it had been, but Cameron was not focused on that right now. Right now, he was holding his unconscious wife's hand, and trying not to cry from relief. Amanda's aggressive use of fertility drugs and rapid pregnancies had finally caught up with her, and complications, which Cameron was not entirely clear on, but had involved a _lot_ of bleeding, had forced a C-section, and nearly killed both Amanda and two of their children.

One of the set of triplets, a girl that had yet to be named, would likely have permanent brain damage due to oxygen deprivation.

Cameron hadn't felt so helpless since his sister had been blown in half in front of him thirty years ago, and for the first time since his training for ROM, he became so oblivious to his surroundings that he didn't notice when his wife woke up.

"Hey," Amanda said faintly, "How're the kids?"

Carefully, oh so carefully, Cameron leaned forward over Amanda, and pulled her up into a hug.

"They'll all live," He said thickly, "Oxygen deprivation on one of the girls, she might have brain damage."

"Mph," Amanda said, weakly pulling herself further into Cameron's embrace, "I guess I pushed it too far, didn't I?"

"Yes," Cameron said, pulling back a bit so he could glare at her angrily, "We're _done_ with this. You're not putting yourself at risk for another oversized pregnancy again!"

Amanda just smiled tiredly up at him, then reached up and stroked one of his stubbly cheeks. Cameron discovered, to his surprise, that it was wet.

"If I knew a measly little near-death experience was all it took to get you to open up and cry again," She said, her face and voice gentle and welcoming, "I would have done it during my _first_ pregnancy."

Cameron just pulled her close again, and cried silently.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

November 7th, 2871

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Ivo family's (expanded) quarters.

Cameron opened the door, and ushered Amanda into their suite. Amanda was carefully carrying Amalinda (whom Amanda had wanted to name Amanda Junior, but Cameron had overruled her, both because he knew Amanda was intending to use the name as a prod to her own guilt over the consequences of the latest triplets difficult birth, and 'Junior' was _no_ kind of name for a girl as far as he was concerned) in a child-carrier with built-in shock absorbers.

"Kids," Cameron called, projecting his voice via depth of tone and resonance, rather than raised volume, "Come to the living room."

The children, long accustomed to obeying their father's orders, quickly assembled, the eldest helping the younger toddle into the room.

Elizabeth, their first-born child, was already the size of most six-year-old chidren, even though she was only four and a half years old, and was carrying Mandy, who was not yet two. Cameron Junior, her twin brother, who ironically enough seemed to be taking after his mother, and was unusually small for his age, was helping his younger brother James balance as they came in. James was two and a half years old, and already heavier than Cameron Junior, though not quite as tall yet, and his rapid growth had slowed his developing balance.

Thomas and Jessica, James birth-mates, were both of fairly average size for their age, and physically developed enough to enter by themselves. David and Daniel, Amalinda's birth-mates, were carried in by Chao, one of the palace staff that the Duke had assigned permanently to the Ivo's to help keep track of their children, one in a baby carrier over her chest, the other in her arms.

"Now," Cameron said as he sat down, and Amanda appropriated her usual seat on his lap (it was standing policy in the Ivo household that when mommy was home from work, daddy's lap was mommy's property), "I know we've brought you all down to the Infirmary to see Amalinda, but now that she's healthier, she's going to be living with us full-time now. What have I told you all about Amalinda?"

"She was hurt when she was born," Junior said promptly, "And it will probably make it harder for her to learn things, so we all need to be very careful with her, and make sure she doesn't hurt herself as we all grow up."

"That's right," Cameron said, nodding and smiling at his eldest son, "We don't know just how much harder it will be for Amalinda, but what will be the most important thing?"

"Patience," Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes, "Just like with almost everything else."

"That's right," Amanda said, smirking up at her husband, "I waited for nineteen years to-"

"Marry your father," All of the children chorused, mimicking Amanda's tone of voice _perfectly_, "And when we're older, you'll tell us _all about_ how there being so many of us shows that it was worth the wait."

Cameron smiled, and Amanda laughed, while Chao blushed, still not entirely accustomed to the terribly forthright ways of the Ivo family, after having been raised in a family with strong traditional Japanese roots.

"But mommy," Jessica said, "'Bet and Junior are _already_ older, why haven't you told them."

"Older," Amanda said, smiling down at her daughter, "As in thirteen."

"Thirteen!" Jessica exclaimed, face flush with the horror that only a three-year-old could hold, "But that'll be _forever!"_

None of the children understood why that made their parents laugh, or why their continued confusion simply spurred their laughter to greater heights.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

January 10th, 2872

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Caph Hyperpulse Station.

"You know," Dipak Vijora said, eying the slim form of Amanda Ivo as she walked into his office, "I think this is the first time in five years that I've seen you, and you weren't pregnant."

"I know," Amanda said, grinning at Dipak, "My husband was displeased with the way my girly bits injured me and Amalinda on the last bout, so he reduced their job responsibilities."

"Reduced their job responsibilities?" Dipak asked, raising an eyebrow at Amanda.

"Yes," Amanda said, grin turning snarky, "But the rest of their job description is private."

"I swear," Dipak said, rolling his eyes, "You married that man because nobody else would have had the endurance to keep up with you. Can we turn this back to something work-related?"

"You're the one who started on pregnancy," Amanda said, her tin now showing teeth, "But I'll indulge you. What's new?"

"What's new," Vijora said, "Is that the Metal-head's new superconductors, while too thermally sensitive to work with the high intensity energies of a Jumpdrive more than once, should be up to the task of allowing us to build another HPG, though it'd be a bit cruder than the one the Blakists left us."

"Hang on," Amanda said, "I assume that the current generation of superconductors dependency on temperatures below -100 C to function as, you know, _superconductors_ would be the issue, but is there a particular reason we can't just keep them cooled during a jump?"

"Have you looked at our figures on the power-flow involved in a single jump, Amanda?" Dipak asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Not since you told me you were stonewalled four years ago," Amanda said, "I looked over everything in detail then, but I've had a lot on my plate since."

"The quantity of energy is measured in hundreds of Petajoules," Vijora said evenly.

"Oh," Amanda said, tone suddenly thoughtful, "So what happens if the superconductors stop superconducting in the middle of a jump?"

"Either the Jump Core explodes at the end of the jump," Dipak said, "Or it fails _during_ the jump."

"Hm," Amanda said pensively, "And what happens to the ship if the core fails mid-jump."

"We don't know," Dipak admitted, "It could be literally anything."

"Well," Amanda said, "In that case, since I've no desire to build the Heart of Gold, I guess you'd better go ahead with the HPG work. I'll ask the Duke to bump your funding back up."

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

April 1st, 2876

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Duke Gustafson's office.

"Cameron," The Duke said, none of his usual good cheer present as the enormous man entered his office, "I want you to have a look at this."

He gestured to a blank section of wall, which a projector was directed at, and pressed a remote to begin a video playback. The projection showed a Union-class dropship at the Dropship manufacturing complex in New Derry, and from the pristine condition of the vessel, it was clear to Cameron its construction had just been completed. The playback showed the Dropship's cradle clearing of workers over the course of a few minutes, then being locked down for launch.

The C-variant Union-class dropship was a modification of the original, redesigned for cargo-hauling, only lightly armed and armored, but still using the same parts as the military redesigns the New Derry shipyards were reproducing, allowing a simplified logistics base. Thus far, C-, or Cargo, A-, or Aerospace, and B-, or Battlemech, variants of the Union class had been developed by Calvin Joliet's team, though his death had slowed the completion of the somewhat more complex IA- variant, which was intended to carry armor and infantry both.

"This C-variant was carrying the first load of structural members intended to go into construction of our first Frigate," The Duke said, watching the video himself, anger in his eyes.

The vessel's thrusters lit off, powering up and providing increased lift, until it began to rise above the scorched construction cradle, accelerating steadily up into the sky. Then one of the thrusters detonated, shredding the entire pylon it was built into, and sending the dropship veering sharply off course. Thrust from the engine opposite the one that had exploded abruptly increased, leveling the Union's flight, then completely cut out. The dropship then painfully slowly spun through the air, the explosion having exerted a slight rotational force upon it, the pair of primary engines and much smaller control thrusters being managed with precision by the pilot so that it's irregular, spinning descent, dropped it slowly back into the cradle, where it half-landed, half-crashed, tipping onto its side and smashing half of the cradle's infrastructure before it landed.

The Duke stopped the clip as a fire began where fuel was leaking from the shattered engine pylon that was now missing an engine.

"That pilot," The Duke said, fierce anger underwriting his tone, "Saved the lives of every man and woman on board that dropship, as well as most of the workers in the shipyard. He's the best damn dropship pilot I've ever _seen_, and I'm inventing a new civilian medal, just to give it to him. We still lost three men in the crash, and dozens more were wounded in the crash or fire. The crew foreman who was in charge of the final stages of construction on that engine tells me it must have been a fault in one of the components, but I smell bullshit. That explosion was too damn well-timed to cause maximum loss of life for me to buy that, but the engine itself is, of course, gone, and exploding fusion drives don't leave much in the way of evidence for forensics teams to work with."

The Duke turned to face Cameron, his gaze hard.

"You specialized in anti-material operations," He said, "What do _you_ see?"

Cameron held his hand out for the remote, and the Duke passed it to him. He silently rewound the film, and replayed the clip from engine ignition, to just after detonation, several times over.

"In Rho," Cameron finally said, his voice now matching the Duke's for hardness, "We specialized in not only blowing shit up, but also in making it either look like someone else's fault, or an accident. I am familiar with the techniques and materials used by the intelligence and espionage units of every Great House in the Inner Sphere, and I can tell you, that was not only sabotage, it was damn _sloppy_ sabotage, and nothing that any of the Houses would have pulled off."

"That," The Duke said, turning back to the projected image, frozen in the moment just after the explosion, while the Union was still horribly off balance, "Is exactly what I was afraid of. I won't ask you to get involved in the investigations on this directly, your wife would try to kill me if I did, but can I count on you to fill the gaps in my men's training?"

"Yes," Cameron said.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

June 13th, 2878

City of New Derry, Primary Planetary Spaceport.

"Cameron, _calm down_," Amanda said with considerable exasperation, "You checked the _whole thing_ yourself!"

Cameron frowned slightly, and Amanda rolled her eyes. To most onlookers, Cameron would seem mildly displeased by something, but then, her husband had never been the most emotionally demonstrative of men, even before he'd spent two decades in Comstar hiding all of his real thoughts and emotions from absolutely everybody around him. She sometimes wondered if he had been more emotive before the bombing in '42, but never really been interested enough to ask.

To her, his slight frown, and the carefully neutral expression that preceded it, might as well have been a fit of hysterical nerves, and it didn't take a genius to realize their source. The first frigate constructed in Caph's orbital yards was due to be Christened and launched that evening, and Amanda's presence was functionally mandatory. Especially after the bombing during a dropship launch the year before; any sign of lack of confidence over the head of Caph's research and development work would not go over well.

The complication, of course, was that once the children had heard mommy was going into space, they all _had_ to come with as well. Cameron had _not_ liked that idea, but the united front of Amanda, Elizabeth, Cameron, James, Thomas, Jessica, Mandy, David, Daniel, and Amalinda (who didn't really understand what space was, but wanted to go on 'the twip' too), and ultimately Chao, caused him to cave. Amanda had been somewhat displeased herself when Cameron had left for New Derry a week early, to inspect every critical component of the ship himself before the launch, but she knew _that_ was an argument she would not win.

"It has been half an hour since I was aboard the dropship," Cameron said evenly, "A great deal may have changed in that time."

"Yes," Amanda said, absently reaching out to stop Amalinda from wondering off as she did so, "And it is entirely possible that every single meal you have ever eaten was treated with a time-delay poison, which will kill you in thirty seconds."

"Or there's a sniper on the roof," Junior said.

"Or nerve gas in the ventilation ducts," Elizabeth added.

"Or meteors falling from space," James added.

"Or Capellans hiding in your underpants," Thomas put in.

"Or I could be a disguised Lyran Assassin," Jessica said, grinning eerily like her mother.

"Or your esophagus could backfire," Mandy said seriously.

"Esophagii don't backfire," Jessica said seriously.

"That depends on what you eat, doesn't it?" Mandy countered.

"Maybe if you're eating _Pentaglycerine,_" Jessica said, exasperated.

"Or just lots of beans," Said David, who was currently of the opinion that farting was _hilarious._

"Or we could all just spontaneously combust," Daniel said, carefully taking Amalinda's hand from his mother, and guiding the younger girl to sit down.

"So no worry!" Amalinda chipped in, smiling at her father.

Cameron smiled down at his youngest child, who raised her hands for him to pick her up. He picked Amalinda up, and plopped her down on his shoulders, which was her favorite place in the whole world, especially now that she was getting big enough that she was hard for other members of the family to carry. As her elder siblings had developed, he had developed an increasing resistance to their puppy-dog eyes and various other cuteness-based attacks, but Amalinda's eternally innocent state of mind still tended to slip past his defenses.

"I'll try," Cameron said, sighing, and in response received his wife's mischevious grin, and all eight of the rest of his children's imitation.

It was eerie, and he just _knew_ Amalinda was wearing the same grin up above him.

Between the teasing from his wife, and heckling from his children, he was actually fairly relaxed by the time they boarded the dropship and it took off.

((()))

"It's so _big!_" Mandy exclaimed, staring out of the shipyard's observation deck towards the just-christened frigate.

"That it is," Amanda said.

At 750,000 tons, the new _Skirmisher_-class Frigate, christened the _Brunnel _after one of Caph's continents that had been reduced to a wasteland by nuclear bombardment a century before, was on the large end for a Frigate, but Caph's re-developing technological and industrial base were not up to the task of producing Star-League era performance components, so it performed like a vessel almost a hundred thousand tons smaller.

Its armament would also have been cripplingly over-specialized, if it was expected to engage in conventional combat against enemy Warships. It carried twenty Heavy Naval PPC's, almost half as many as the legendary _McKenna_ class Battleship, but unlike the far-heavier design not seen since the Kerensky Exodus, the _Skirmisher_ class carried no other armaments whatsoever. Its launch bays were designed to hangar twenty-four Aerospace Fighters, and developing combat doctrine would call for at least one of the ship's three docking collars to carry a carrier-configured Dropship to ensure the vessel did not fall to small craft assault.

Once there was a jump drive to install in the vessel, anyways. The 'Calvinists,' so-named for their late team leader, had explained their intentions to use the mass and space improved materials would provide future hulls of the same design to mount point defense weaponry, and if possible increase sub-light thrust and maneuvering performance. Long-haul strategic doctrine called for the _Skirmisher_ class to fulfill a long-range support role once larger and more advanced designs were made available, one of the primary reasons it was exclusively loaded with the extremely long-ranged HNPPC's. In the short run, conflict with anything more dangerous than an Assault Dropship was not expected, and in the long run, the _Skirmishers_ would still be able to fulfill a useful support role.

To Cameron, who had only looked over the performance specifications of the ship, the _Brunnel_ represented the first definitive step towards Caph's self-sufficiency. To Amanda, who had essentially been the project coordinator between the teams designed in developing the various technologies that had gone into the _Brunnel's_ construction, the Warship represented a major achievement for her planet, her research and construction teams, and herself.

To the Ivo children, the _Brunnel_ was a great big spaceship, and _everyone_ knows that spaceships are cool. The fact that they got to watch an entire flotilla of Dropships moving to and form the surface, shipyards, and asteroid mining operations further in system, was just a bonus.

"Well," The Duke said from behind the Ivos, gesturing towards the airlock connected to the _Brunnel's_ interior, where his own children, and grandchild, stood, "Who's up for the tour?"

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

June 21st, 2878

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Duke's Office.

"I've called the both of you here," The Duke said to Cameron and Amanda, who were collectively occupying one of the two chairs in front of the Duke's desk, "To cover three issues. The first, is that I'm kicking all of our research and development, save the Hyperspace work, to the private sector."

He paused a moment to give them time to react, but though Amanda frowned, neither of them said anything.

"The second thing," The Duke said, "Someone out for a glorified nature walk on Steam found dinosaurs in one of the surviving pockets of jungle."

After another moment's pause to allow response, which was again not forthcoming, the Duke continued again.

"The final issue," He said, his tone becoming more serious, "Is that we've discovered who was behind the Dropship bombing two years ago. It's a fanatical splinter of one of the Luddite groups we were propping up during our PR campaign to withdraw from the Sphere at large. We finally caught up with them, the only real difficulty involved being they left no digital trail of their activity, due to their lack of willingness to _use_ digital technology more than they had to. There was a strike operation two days ago to take the entire group out, but it didn't go so well. My men took some heavy casualties, and we're pretty sure that at least a few of them got away from us."

"How many is a few?" Cameron asked.

"Between three and five," The Duke said, "We're not entirely sure."

"Why are you telling us this?" Amanda asked.

"So that you're warned," The Duke said, "Your family are as much, if not more, the public faces of our renaissance project as my own. I'm going to be assigning you a security team whenever you leave the Palace grounds."

"Oohh," Amanda said, "The kids aren't going to like that."

"We'll tell them that first," Cameron said, "Then the Dinosaurs. That should perk them back up."

"I'll have to recommend my children attempt that with their own children," The Duke said, "I also have one other bit of news."

"What would that be?" Amanda asked.

"Since we're going public," The Duke said, "You'll be able to pitch your idea for rebuilding the 'Internet' to one of the private companies that will be absorbing the various technologies."

Amanda grinned at that.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

July 13th, 2881

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace.

Cameron had not awoken to the sound of detonating Pentaglycerin for twenty-two years, but the deeply-ingrained reflexes of his core muscle-memory did not care for the time elapsed, only that threat-reaction responses had been triggered.

Cameron vaulted out of bed, revolver with AP rounds in his primary hand, even as his off-hand slipped his thermal goggles onto his face. A quick sweep of the room revealed nothing, and no one else except for his wife.

"Mrgmpheron?" Amanda said, sitting slowly up in bed, and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

The second detonation hurled her out of bed, and the rest of the way to consciousness.

"Get Chao, collect the children in the Kitchen," Cameron said, grabbing his old earpiece and tuning it to the Palace's security channel, "I'll find out what's happening."

He strode out of the room before his discombobulated wife even had a chance to react.

It was a short walk down the hallway to his family's living room, especially for one of Cameron's size, but his arrival was preempted by another detonation, this one blasting in the door to the rest of the Palace.

Cameron's eyes narrowed, and he consciously slipped into the near-silent gait of an infiltrator. Stopping at the entrance to the living room, he found that fragments of the door had set the carpet on fire, and a pair of armed men were entering the room. They were neither wearing the uniform of the Duke's guard, nor carrying guard-issued weaponry, marking them as hostile.

Cameron's gun hand swung smoothly into position, and his mind only flickered for a fraction of a second in hesitation before he pulled the trigger twice, re-targeted, and fired twice more. The magnum revolver fired with a sharp retort, sending steel-cored penetrators through flak-weave, skin, muscle, ribs, lungs, hearts, and half an inch into the concrete wall behind the two assassins.

Slipping more rounds into the revolver's drum before the bodies even hit the ground, Cameron stepped back slightly, allowing the corner of the wall to shield him from the doorway, and listened carefully. He had replaced three of the four spent rounds when he heard more bodies storming into the room, firing wildly about.

Muzzle flare from their own weapons blinded the attackers, who simply moved to the center of the living room, firing on full automatic, and barely managing to avoid hitting each other. Cameron dove to the floor, firing into the mass of attackers immediately. A strangled female shout sounded behind him as the assassins wild fire caught someone else in the hallway, but Cameron refused to be distracted.

He fired his first two shots without trying to aim at anything specific, and one of the human-shaped masses of heat revealed by his goggles dropped, but he was more careful with the other two, lining up shots for the upper chest and firing twice, then once.

Blood spattered across the living room, and a long, strangled scream marked the death of the final attacker.

Rolling to his feat and already reloading again, Cameron carefully entered the room, moving along the wall to the light-switch, which failed to activate the room's lights. Unsurprised by this, Cameron carefully strafed into the room, maneuvering to keep the bodies and shattered doorway both in his line of sight at all times. He carefully checked each body for a pulse by hand, keeping his eyes on the doorway throughout.

Once that was checked, he returned to the hallway swiftly, where he found Chao, who had taken a bullet through her right shoulder, and another through her right lung.

"Elizabeth!" Cameron barked out in the Voice of Command.

Elizabeth, who had been watching, shocked, through her barely-opened bedroom doorway, responded instinctively.

"Yes daddy!" She snapped, opening her door.

"Get over here and put pressure on the wounds," He said, then turned further down the hallway, "James!"

"Yes dad!" His second born son responded crisply, peaking out of the room he shared with his twin brother.

"Someone is scrambling the internal palace frequencies, see if you can get someone over the wired network, we need a guard detachment and medical team here promptly"

"Yessir!" James said.

"Amanda, Junior!" Cameron continued, stepping up and away from Chao as Elizabeth took over her immediate care.

"Yes Cameron?"

"Yessir!"

"Get into my gun stash, and barricade the hallway from the living room. They're not using armor piercing ammunition, so wood furniture will be fine. I'm going to check on the Duke."

"Yessir!" Junior said.

"Yes dear," Amanda said.

Cameron stormed out of their suit, running for the Ducal family's quarters.

((()))

When Cameron arrived at the part of the palace set aside for the Duke's family, it immediately became obvious what the earlier explosions had been. Half of the wing had collapsed, and what was left of the Duke's personal guard was having it out with thirty-some of the attackers in the remains. Worse, it wasn't the Duke's men trying to prevent the attackers from reaching the Ducal quarters, it was the Duke's men trying to get to the wreckage to look for survivors. And just for special bonus points, Cameron's body had decided to rather firmly let him know that yes, he might be in excellent shape for his age, but he was _still_ sixty, and of a build that meant he wasn't likely to see seventy.

For the first time since that bloody day, almost forty years ago, when Cameron had first met Amanda, Cameron Ivo went into a fight _angry_. Of course, angry for Cameron didn't mean 'stupid angry,' it meant 'coldly furious' angry. He spent thirty seconds observing the attacker's movements, which promptly led him to a few conclusions.

First, they were no more competent or well equipped than the men he had killed in his family's quarters.

Second, at this level of competence, they must have had inside help to so thoroughly breach Palace security.

Third, as the lights were still refusing to come on, he had been given the opening he needed to break the semi-deadlock between the Duke's guard and the attackers.

Three minutes of crawling around the exterior of the half-ruined residential wing later, Cameron silently came upon the first isolated assassin, and quietly broke his neck.

((()))

Lieutenant Aidan Karpov was having a _bad_ night. He was in charge of what was supposed to be Captain Daniels detachment, except the man was dead, had _just_ gotten to sleep after another argument with his wife when the explosions started, and now _this_.

"We've got three survivors from the Duke's family," A less-than-stable sounding woman who appeared to be the Luddites leader screamed, "Let us out, or they buy it!"

_That_ stopped the firefight but fast, and Karpov realized with a sinking sensation that _he_ was going to have to be the one making the call on this. This _should_ be _way_ above his pay grade. This meant thinking on his feet, which Karpov had always been _reasonably_ apt at, but not good enough with that he wanted to best the last survivors of his liege-lord's family on.

"What guarantee do I have that you're not fibbing?" Karpov shouted back at the cultist leader, without breaking cover.

"Get them up!" The woman barked, and Karpov peeked over the half of a wall he was hiding behind to see three clearly-injured people, clad only in their nightclothes, being dragged to their feet beside the cultist leader.

Karpov wasn't sure if he should curse, or thank God; the three were Duke Gustafson's youngest son, his wife, and their daughter. On the plus side, they were alive, on the downside, they were in the hands of homicidal lunatics.

"What guarantee do we have you'll let them go if we let _you_ go?" Karpov demanded of the woman.

She laughed, an utterly mad sound that _terrified_ Karpov in the deepest parts of his heart, then turned and shot the Duke's son through the head.

"You have my guarantee that if you _don't_," She screeched, "We _will_ kill them _all_!"

"Shit!" Karpov ducked back down behind cover, desperately trying to decide what to do.

The woman heard Karpov's curse, and laughed again.

((()))

Cameron had killed three of the attackers when the firing stopped, and managed to snap another neck before their leader shot Paul Gustafson.

It was the laugh, that did it, really, the laugh of someone taking pleasure in killing, in inflicting pain and suffering on another. That was something Cameron had never, _ever_ been able to abide.

((()))

Valerie Drummel was still laughing, exalting in the power she held over everyone around her, basking in the fear in their eyes, when everything went to hell for her.

The largest man she had ever seen was suddenly (where had he _come_ from?) ripping the two men holding her hostages away from said hostages, needing only a single hand for each of them, crushing their throats with the sheer force of his grip.

She spun and opened fire on him, screaming for her compatriots to come to her aid, but he ignored the line of bullet-holes she stitched across his abdomen (it would have been his chest, but he was _damn_ tall,) as he stormed across the short distance between them, incandescent rage in his eyes, grabbed her arms, and ripped them off.

The last thing Valerie Drummel ever experienced was Cameron Ivo using her dis-armed body as an improvised club to beat the last of her hostage-takers to death with.

((()))

Karpov had literally been scared shitless when Cameron tore the woman's arms off, but as far as he was concerned, the situation had _definitely _improved. Half the cultists had broken cover to rush to their leader's aid, and Karpov had immediately ordered his men to open fire, and the Luddites had been butchered.

Watching Cameron Ivo beat the last of the three men that had been directly holding the Duke's family hostage to death with the cultist-leader's still-screaming body effectively broke the spirit of the rest of the cultists. It also creeped Karpov's men the hell out, and as the only officer on the scene, he found it fell to him to rush to the man's aid when he collapsed.

The sound of non-booted feet running behind him, when he looked over his shoulder, turned out to be Amanda Ivo and her five eldest children, all of them armed, following him. Considering the burst of fire Karpov had seen Ivo take from the Cultist leader, he didn't think this was going to end well.

Rushing across the debris of the Duke's residential wing would have caused him two bloody knees and a gashed elbow if his uniform hadn't been so tough, but in his haste, he didn't really notice. Cameron Ivo was taking deep, wet breaths, when Karpov arrived, Amanda not far behind him, and was clearly going into shock as his sixty-year-old heart enthusiastically pumped his blood all over the battlefield. He was still aware enough, of his surroundings, however, to look Karpov in the eye when he arrived.

"Did I save them?" He asked, panting harshly.

"Yeah," Karpov said, looking over at Lily Gustafson, holding her daughter and crying silently as she stared at the dying Ivo, "You did."

"Of course you did," Amanda said, gasping from her run across the Palace as she collapsed onto her husband, smearing herself with blood, tears already forming in her eyes, "You're incapable of failure."

"I'm sorry," Cameron said, trying, and failing, to raise his arms to embrace his wife, then trying again with one and barely succeeding, "I Love you."

"And I Love you," She returned, pain making her voice tight as she stared down at her dying husband.

Cameron smiled at her one more time, then closed his eyes.

"Always wanted to go out protecting someone," He whispered faintly, as his body began to go limp.

Then Cameron Ivo died.

(((()))

End of Chapter 1.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 3: To the Stars

(Or, Presents from the Draconis Combine.)

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

July, 2881

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

When the state funeral for Cameron Ivo was announced, most expected a funeral procession, ending at a graveyard with some somber words by a priest. What actually happened, was an altogether different story. Cameron's will, such as it was ('The wife gets everything, including me as a rock,' with added legalese,) called for any useful organs to be donated, then his body to be burnt, and the ashes compressed into a carbon diamond for his wife.

Things were further complicated when, rather than set the newly-created gem into a ring or necklace, Amanda had it mounted as the pointy part of a set of brass knuckles.

"So he can still protect me," She explained when the Duke asked her about it.

In a spectacular display of the mixed effectiveness of fanaticism, madness, and inexperience combined into a single package, the bombs the Luddites had used to force their way into the Palace had killed a number of staff and guards, but due to the reinforced nature of the Duke's quarters themselves, failed to do more than injure any members of the Duke's family. In an ironic tragedy, this meant that Paul Gustafson had been the only member of the family to die.

In the end, a state funeral was held with one casket, for Paul, while Amanda walked or stood alongside it as appropriate, wearing brass knuckles. So it was that Amanda Ivo, wearing all black, a sidearm, and a pair of brass knuckles delivered her husbands Eulogy in a hard voice from behind a black podium.

"I met Cameron Ivo in 2842, when Comstar destroyed the Experimental Computing Building, and everyone inside except for me and him, in order to prevent us from recovering technology Caph had lost when the forces of Stefan Amaris attacked us during the Star League Civil War. He was in the server room, with half of his older sister's corpse, so covered in blood that the first time I saw him, I thought he was dead. Two of the ROM officers chased me into the room, intending to rape me before they killed me. I was twelve years old."

Amanda stopped, and glared at the camera that was transmitting her words across the rest of Caph, and the rest of the system.

"I never knew how Cameron snapped the first man's kneck, as I was being held face-down on the bloody floor, while he ripped away my skirt and underwear, then undid his pants. It was the first time I heard a man's neck snap. The second man, he picked up by the throat with one hand, crushed his neck, and then threw him away.

"In all fairness to Comstar, their commanding officer thanked Cameron for killing the men, as even _he_ thought they were scum for trying to rape me, then welded the door to the server room shut, intending for us to have a quick death. I was in shock at this point, and essentially did nothing, while Cameron tore the server casings apart, secured as much of the recovered research data as the Blakists were there to destroy as he could, then used the servers to form an armored shell around us.

"The blast hurled us out into one of the ponds on campus, where Cameron again saved my life, as I was still too far into shock to have done anything myself except drown. The next day, rather than seek bloody revenge, try to report to the local authorities, or anything else, Cameron joined Comstar, even citing his sister's recent death to 'Capellan Agents' as a motivation for him to get away from war by joining the 'pacifist' organization."

Amanda paused, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath before continuing again, pain leaking around the harsh edges of her voice.

"He raised me for the next five years. He was twenty-two, having just gotten his Bachelors in Mechanical Engineering, and I was eleven, but my entire family on-planet had been killed in the attack, and he knew that I couldn't talk to anyone else about what had happened It was two years before I was able to sleep without him holding me, to ward away the fear, and another year before I could sleep by myself consistently. Two years after that he joined ROM.

"While most of us were doing everyday jobs, I was going to university, and Caph was, relatively, peaceful, he was, without any support whatsoever from outside sources, infiltrating the enemy, concealing every element of who he truly was from absolutely everyone around him, and doing things he hated with a passion, so that we could have the freedom we now enjoy. He spent almost _twenty_ _years_ with ROM, and the only reason we got him back, was because the Duke made it a condition of our withdrawing from the Inner Sphere to 'forsake technology,' like the damn Blakists wanted us to.

"I had to drug him to keep himself from going on a self-appointed suicide mission against ROM after the deal was finished anyways, but I'd waited twenty years for him to come back, and I wasn't letting him get away from me."

Amanda stopped, the harshness gone from her voice, and now only pain remained.

"Because of how old he was, and his huge size, I knew he would likely never live to see seventy, but I expected to have at least another six years with him, for him to be able to see his sons become men before he died. But someone _else_ decided to kill citizens of Caph, rather than allow us to regain what was lost in the succession wars."

Amanda's voice turned to iron once more, and her eyes blazed with a fiery passion.

"In the last fifteen years," She said, "Our advances in genetics and other medicines have all but eliminated birth defects and stillbirths on this planet. Our advances with industrial automation and space mining have allowed us to make manufacturing vastly cheaper, and move polluting industrial processes off world. Perhaps most importantly of all, our greenhouse developments have made food cheap and abundant here on Caph again."

"_This_," She shouted, slamming her fist into the podium, the Cameron gem cracking its surface, "Is the legacy of our recovered technology, and that which pissant terrorist groups like the Luddites, and more fiendish organizations like Comstar would deny us! Well, my husband knew how to respond to scum like that, and he died like he lived. He crushed the throats of those that held Lily Gustafson and her daughter hostage, then ripped Valerie Drummel's arms off, and beat one of the other terrorists to death with her."

Amanda's eyes blazed with passion as she swept them across first the assembled crowd, then glared into the camera once more.

"Let this be a lesson to _anyone_ who would attack our family, our planet. The way Ivo's deal with that shit, is to rip your arms off, and then beat your men to death with your still-screaming body. If anyone doesn't like it," She raised her hand, brandishing the brass-knuckles with the carbon gem imbedded in them for all to see, "They can take it up with my husband. I'll be happy to introduce him to their _face_."

And with that, Cameron Ivo's eulogy was ended.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

August 19th, 2881

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace.

"How do you deal with it?" Lily Gustafson finally asked, staring red-eyed at Amanda Ivo over the private lunch they were sharing.

"Mostly," Amanda said, "By keeping myself busy with things that matter."

"Like what?" Lily asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.

"For as long as I knew him," Amanda said, "Cameron lived his life for a purpose, _everything_ he did was aimed towards furthering that purpose. He meant to fight Comstar's tyranny, and tyranny in general. I'm a Physicist and Mathematician, and continuing to push our tech-base forward is a key factor in ensuring our people's freedom. Spending time with the kids helps too, part of the reason I wanted to have so many kids, was so that they could function as reminders of their father once he was gone."

Her voice had gotten a little rough towards the end, but she managed to not break eye contact with Lily.

"I suppose it helps that you've already got an established career," Lily said, looking down at her half-emptied plate again, pushing her food around idly with her fork, "Theresa is a handful, but one child can only provide so much distraction, and I don't even have a Bachelors, much less three Doctorates like you do."

"That doesn't mean anything," Amanda said, waving a hand dismissively as she set back into her own food with gusto, "What matters, is if you have the _drive_ to get something done. You want a PhD? I'll have a few words with Ed over at Caph Tech, and you can start classes with the new term in three weeks. You could even leave Theresa with my munchkins while you're on campus. Want something more immediate? Spend some time _personally_ making sure that the guards who died in the attack, their families are well taken-care of. Maybe get together with the widows and form a new social group. That not your thing? Talk with the Captain of the guard, and you could begin combat training yourself. You're a Gustafson now, you could be in a training Mech or Aerospace fighter by this time tomorrow."

Lily stared at Amanda in shock, half because of the torrent of words, half because she was speaking with food in her mouth.

"Cameron," Amanda said, staring back intently, not breaking eye contact even as she continued to feed herself, "Got a Bachelors in engineering, and had intended to go join the AFFS and become a Combat Engineer. Instead, he never held a job in his life that used that degree, _everything_ he accomplished, he accomplished by sheer force of will and determination, and drawing notice from those in positions of power."

She paused a moment.

"Except for being a father," She added with a smile, "He accomplished that because I threw him into bed and had my way with him on our wedding night. Then again, and again, and again."

Lily began to blush, _horribly_.

"That aside," Amanda said, more serious again, "Take some time, and figure out what _you_ want to do, and more importantly, how badly you want to do it. Once you've done that, there's always a way to get it done, you just have to find it, then pound the shit out of it until it knows you're the boss."

Lily wasn't really sure how to respond to that, and Amanda's manic grin didn't help.

"See?" Amanda said, "Just thinking about it gets me all fired up."

Something had stirred in Lily's heart at all of this, but she was not entirely sure what it was. And for all of Amanda's passion, she had not answered the deeper question that was _really_ nagging at Lily's heart.

"How do you deal with knowing you'll never see him again?" She eventually asked.

Amanda replied with a smile, this one not mischievous, but rather deep, slightly sorrowful, but full of a deep, peaceful and unyielding confidence.

"Oh but Lily," Amanda said, reaching out to touch the young woman's cheek, "I _will_ see him again. I know there won't be husbands and wives in Heaven, but considering it's going to be _Heaven_, whatever there will be, will be _even better._"

Lily didn't really know how to respond to that.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

July 20th, 2881

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace.

"Amanda?"

"Yes Lily?"

"I've decided to try to become a pilot."

"Good for you! Go kick some ass!"

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

August 8th, 2889,

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Primary Conference Room.

"Alright people," Amanda said, tucking her graying hair behind her ear as she stepped up to the small lectern at the front of the conference room, and gestured for the assembled men and women to settle down.

"This will be the first combined project under my authority since the Duke decided to go public with the majority of our research data, and I've got to say, I'm looking forward to having minions again."

There were fifty people in the room, which Amanda sorted into 'worked with me before' and 'not worked with me before,' by taking note of who laughed, and who seemed intimidated.

"The project we're about to embark upon," Amanda said, "Will, if I live long enough, require most of the rest of my life to complete. It's going to involve work from every single major branch of science and engineering, as well as almost all of the specialized branches."

She paused to smirk.

"Anybody want to guess what it is?"

"We're going to build the Death Star, and staff it with clones of your husband," Alvis Camnon promptly said.

"No," Amanda said, "Good idea though, I'll propose that to the Duke for our next endeavor. Any other guesses?"

"We're going to hunt down the Exodus Fleet!" Stephanie Chang suggested, grinning.

"No," Amanda said, glaring at the, relatively, young Chemical Engineer, "That's a _terrible_ idea. I'm filing it between 'invent the square triangle,' and 'try to re-enact Frankenstein.'"

Stephanie just laughed, as Amanda knew she would.

"Anybody have a _serious_ guess?" Amanda asked.

"Build an orbital habitat with functioning Ecosystem?" One of the newcomers hesitantly suggested.

"Close enough," Amanda said, grinning, "As some of you may have heard, or known because you're you, the Jumpers had a good fifteen years to play around with where they didn't have much to do but play with theoreticals, and then mess around with HPG's, until we had the Superconductors they needed to actually build a Jump Drive. Well, contrary to what _some_ people think, they didn't just waste that time. Two primary results came of their work, one of which is still classified, the other I'll let the team head fill you in on."

Dipak Vijora, himself showing some signs of graying hair, stood to address the group at large.

"Much like probably every Jump Physicist worth their salt since the KF-drive became a proven technology," Vijora said, "We spent a lot of time trying to work out a way to extend maximum jump range, as being able to jump three-hundred light years, rather than thirty, would be of considerable use. While playing around with the equations, energy ratios, and whatnot, we actually ended up figuring out how to break open the other end of Jump limitations, namely the limit on mass jumped. Generally speaking, since the early Star League years, the upper limit of mass that a single Jump Drive can move in a single jump, regardless of mass, has been held somewhere between 2.5, and 2.75 million tons. Since most Jumpships and Warships, even with attached Dropships, don't even break two million tons, nobody has really put much work in to raising this limit, as there really has been no need."

He paused for a moment, and grinned before continuing.

"Down at the HPG compound, however, us Jumpers have worked out how to jump _twenty-five_ million tons worth of mass. Some of you may have heard about the rather large asteroid that showed up quite suddenly at the Lagrange-2 point for industrial processing. It massed nineteen million tons, and yes, that was us moving it."

"Thank you Di," Amanda said, rolling her eyes, "For that _thrilling_ explanation. Let me some it up for you all. Big rock, big move, big fast."

Vijora smiled at her, seating himself gracefully, and graciously gesturing for her to continue. Amanda rolled her eyes again.

"Anyways," Amanda said, "We're going to move into the next step of our super-secret advanced Technological Renaissance plan. Specifically, we're going to build the logical conclusion of taking the SLDF's old 'yardship' concept way too far, and build a ship that's designed to be an entire Industrial Complex in space. Then we're going to take our technology to the stars."

Amanda paused for a moment to unleash her sharkish grin, something that at this point, was recognizable to almost every citizen of Caph.

"Any questions?"

A firestorm of demanding inquiries was unleashed.

((()))

Six hours later, at nearly two in the morning, the last of the questioners left the conference room, leaving Amanda alone, with Alvis Camnon, one of Caph's top geneticists. Too tired to cross the room to where he was sitting, she instead slumped down into her own chair, and gestured him over to her.

"What is it Alvis?" She asked, her voice shot through with fatigue, "Some sort of emergency down at the bottom end of the metric system?"

"No," Alvis said, smiling at her fatigued attempt at humor, "Actually, I wanted to ask you if you know anything about Telomeres."

"Can't say that I do," Amanda said, "I haven't gone into more than the basics of genetics since I was an undergrad. Why?"

"Let me tell you what we've been doing with them lately," Alvis said, wearing a grin that reminded Amanda very much of her own.

She liked where this was going.

((()))

_CSS Calvin Joliet_, _Calvin Joliet _-class Industrial Ship.

Mass: 22 Megatons

Length: 4,455 Meters.

Width: 2,109 Meters (average)

Depth: 1764 Meters (average)

Crew population: Approximately 125,000

Armament: 320 NL 55's, 40 along each horizontal edge

Dropship hardpoints: 18

The _Calvin Joliet_ class Industrial design, named after the Caph Engineer of the same name and appropriately reflective of his penchant for simple and effective designs, was designed to function as a mobile modern techno-industrial complex. Specifications called for its internal fabrication modules to be able to manufacture on a large enough scale that, given time, it could duplicate itself, component by component. Considering every component of the vessel save the hull, primary structural members, and Jump Core, are modular in design, this is not actually quite as difficult as one might think.

Resembling, in essence, a massive brick with slightly rounded edges and corners, the _Calvin Joliet_ class is designed to support an eighth of a million people indefinitely, and its internal structure is widely different than any prior Jump-capable vessel. Three hundred meters within the hall, a massive cylindrical array of grav decks, built of modular sections, runs the length of the entire ship, containing the living quarters of every member of the ship's crew. These decks are three meters deep each, and the interior contains seventy of them, all rotating independently of each other, configured for Earth-normal gravity, though their rotation can be altered if necessary. Also contained within these decks are recreation concourses, a commercial district known as 'the mall,' and any number of offices, conferences and recreational halls, vid theaters, and biospheres containing parks. The sheer quantity of grav-deck capacity was included due to the adverse effects protracted periods in microgravity have upon the human body, and ship regulations dictate how much time per month a given crew member is allowed to spend in zero-g, outside of emergency or combat conditions.

The cylindrical space within these grav decks is occupied by the ship's Jump Core, Bridge, and the more expensive and/or delicate fabrication modules. This section of the ship also contains a large zero-g habitat, often used as a golf course, which includes a zero-g pool. Any modules used for or containing classified material are also kept within the core. Most of the ship's agricultural modules are also contained in the core.

Outside of the grav-cylinder, the intra-system engines are mounted in the aft of the 'brick,' and the rest of the space is taken up by material processing and manufacturing modules, Dropship interlinks, hangar and cargo bays, and weapon mounts. While the design is modular, and can relatively easily be modified, at launch the aft portions of the extra-core spaces are generally occupied with heavy manufacturing modules, while the port and starboard amidships are equipped for processing raw mined materials into useful components, and the fore sections are taken up by cargo and hangar bays.

The _Calvin Joliet's _dropship collars are _technically_ modular components, but due to the collars involving both a port through the armored hull, and a boom connection to the Jump Core, moving these components is far more difficult than any of the other modules. At launch, nine dropship collars run the length of the Industrial Ship's port and aft hull, with the three amidships on either flank being especially configured to handle raw and potentially hazardous materials. As a result of a conceptual design oversight in the launch configuration, no heavy cargo passages appropriate for handing large or bulk cargos exist between the fore and aft-most hull, and consequentially, dropships must 'hop' from rear to forward hull mountings in order to move completed goods to the fore cargo holds for storage.

Due to the sheer investment involved in each vessel, it was decided that the _Calvin Joliet_ class should also be extremely heavily armed and armored, and in keeping with the developing Caph Armed Forces preference for energy-based weaponry, it was outfitted with a blistering array of Naval Lasers. Chosen over Naval PPC's due to their relative small size, while maintaining an extremely long effective range, the NL 55's were mounted on concealed modular internal turrets along the dorsal and ventral edges of the ship. The configuration of turrets means that a minimum of eighty, and a maximum of two hundred, Naval Lasers may be brought to bear on an enemy vessel approaching any particular orientation of the vessel. Due to the massive heat-dissipation necessitated by internal forges, foundries, and other industrial processes, the high heat load caused by these lasers is functionally negligible.

However, despite its heavy weapon and armor load, a _Calvin Joliet_ can by no means be mistaken for a Warship by any competent naval officer, they would more likely be classified as a Q-ship. While it carries an armament 50% heavier than that of a _McKenna_-class Battleship, and moderately heavier armor, the _McKenna _is less than a tenth of the _Joliet's_ mass, and vastly more maneuverable. The _Joliet_, due to the structural properties of its modular internal gravdecks, is only capable of sustaining a little over half of a gravity of thrust without damaging itself, far more than a conventional jumpship's station-keeping drives, but nothing remotely capable of competing with a Warship proper.

In times of emergency, a _Joliet_ can, if necessary, lockdown its gravdecks, and redline the engines for up to two gravities of thrust. The lockdown process, however, takes days, and considering the intended role and use of a _Calvin Joliet _calls for it to either loiter around resource rich asteroid clusters or moons, or take a parking orbit over a planet intended as a trade partner, an attacking fleet of Warships would almost certainly catch a _Calvin Joliet_ at a point where it would be incapable of effectively fleeing.

Between the _Calvin Joliet's_ slow speed, and the CAF's desire to keep their concealed armaments, _concealed_, that the first vessel of the class was equipped with a complement of three hundred and twenty Aerospace Fighters (by no means the maximum complement its hangars could host), as well as four Assault-configured Mammoth-class dropships. Its standard dropship complement also includes four Mammoths configured for resource extraction from asteroids and planetoids, and four of the cargo-hauler configurations the Inner Sphere at large is familiar with.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

December 20th, 2908

Orbital Shipyard, System Tactical Information Center (STIC)

"Sir," Iruka West, a green sensor tech officer three months into his first tour called, "I think I'm picking up a Jump signature."

Lieutenant-Commander Pietri Ragnussonson, the current officer of the watch, looked up from his contemplation of the dregs of his coffee-pouch, and considered the young tech thoughtfully.

"Are you sure about that, Ensign?" He asked.

"As sure as I can be," West said, "Considering I've never seen a pattern like this, even in tests."

"What's so different about it?" Ragnussonson asked, unbuckling from his seat, and gently pushing himself across the STIC towards the tech's console.

"First off, there appear to be three different simultaneous signals," Iruka said, "Second, they're so small, the computer isn't sure if they're real or not. The only reason it blipped over them at all, is that there are _three_ of them."

"Let me see," Ragnussonson said, grabbing West's chair to stop his forward motion, then looking over the younger tech's shoulder at the energy field.

"Hmm…" He said, frowning as he studied the patterns for some time before continuing.

"Well," He said, "This could be the screwy side-effect of some solar activity, considering it's a little off from the prime Apex jump-point, but it could be a trio of small Jumpships too. I'll kick it up to command and ask them to send a Skirmisher to have a look.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Orbit of Caph-2

December 20th, 2908

_Skirmisher-_class Warship, _Steam_.

Bridge.

"Sir," Lieutenant Maxwell Short, Comm officer on watch, said, "We're receiving new orders from Fleetcom."

"Oh?" The Captain said, looking up from the maintenance reports on his Frigate's guns, "What does the Duke want us to do now?"

"Apparently the Sensops over at the STIC picked up what might be a set of jump-signatures at the Apex point," Short said, "We're supposed to go check it out, quiet-like. I'm forwarding the full version to your console."

"Thank you, Short," The Captain said, manipulating his display to show his new orders, and spending a few seconds reading silently.

"Well, Engines," The Captain said, addressing the ship's hemsman, "You heard the man. Off to the Apex point, and do it quietly."

"Aye-aye sir," The helmsman said, and began plotting their course from Caph-2 to the Apex Jump Point of Beta Cassiopeiae.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Apex Jump Point.

December 20th, 2908

Combine Military _Scout_-class Jumpship, _Tanto_.

"_Sho-sa_," _Sho-i_ TateWakami, the _Tanto_'s sensor officer said quietly, "There is no sign of response to our arrival from Caph, but there seems to be an unusual amount of activity in orbit."

"How unusual, _Sho-i_?" _Sho-sa_ Yagama, the Jumpship's captain, asked.

"I am uncertain," Wakami replied, "The computers will require more time to sort through their findings."

"Inform me the instant they are complete," Yagama said, nodding gravely at his subordinate, before turning to the man standing beside his command chair in a black uniform with no insignia.

The man, however, said nothing, and so Yagama turned back to watch his sensor officer on the _Tanto_'s tiny bridge, and wait. The _Tanto's_ bridge crew went about their business silently, despite the fact that their personal silence had no bearing on the continued secrecy of their operation, it was a simple matter of psychology.

"Sorting complete," Wakami said quietly.

"What have you discovered?" Yagama asked.

"There is a great deal of civilian traffic from the planet," Wakami said, "It appears that Caph's population has more than doubled in the time since its withdrawal from the Inner Sphere. There is a great deal of Dropship traffic between the planet and various asteroid clusters, apparently they are harvesting asteroids for industrial purposes. In addition, they are constructing what appears to be a shipyard scaled to manufacture multiple Jumpships or Warships in orbit. Further, they are flying no flag save their own."

"Military presence?" The uniformed man beside Yagama asked sharply.

"I cannot be certain, Honored Warrior," Wakami said, shaking his head and bowing regretfully, "Our records indicate they were left with a single lance of damaged Battlemechs, which were being used as museum exhibits, and I have found no mention in the civilian broadcasts of Battlemech production. There appear to be Armored Personnel Carriers in use amongst the police force, but I have found record of nothing heavier. There is a great deal of Aerospace manufacture taking place, primarily oriented around refitted _Mammoth-_class and _Union-_class Dropships, primarily refitted for cargo hauling and resource extraction from Asteroids. Beyond this, I cannot say for certain, as if there are military transmissions detailing more, I am not able to detect them at this time, and there is simply too much distance for me to collect useful readings from the shipyard they are constructing."

The un-named warrior gave Wakami a short bow of respect, then turned to the Jumpship's captain.

"It is time, _Sho-sa_ Yagama," He said, for my men and I to embark upon our mission. We should arrive upon Caph in twenty-one days. Please send our reinforcements promptly."

And then he left the bridge, departing for the single modified _Leopard_-class Dropship docked with the _Tanto_.

((()))

When burning at a single Terran-standard gravity of acceleration, it takes a week to reach Caph from the Apex or Nadir jump points. A military dropship running at maximum burn can make the trip in close to a third the time, and a Warship can manage a single performance.

Firing off a fusion drive at anything remotely approaching full power, however, is roughly equivalent to screaming out your presence to every sensor platform in the system. Because of this, launching a surprise attack on a planet requires either incredibly detailed system maps (Which the Kuritan forces did not have,) to allow the use of a Pirate Jump Point in close proximity to the planet, if such a Jump Point is available, or much, _much_ lower acceleration approaches.

The _Leopard_ modified for DEST use on mission exactly like this one, could manage as much as a quarter gravity of acceleration without being detection, depending upon the sophistication of their intended target's detection equipment. Considering their lack of knowledge of their opponent's military capabilities, the DEST team leader had decided caution was necessary. Even though they would not be making turnover and decelerating to meet their target, but instead deploying orbital-drop packages while the _Leopard_ made a ballistic flyby of the planet, it would still take them three times as long to reach the world.

Before the First Succession War, precision communications equipment would have allowed them to remain in constant contact with the Jumpship that had ferried them into system, and the two _Overlord_ dropships carrying the assault force intended to take the world for the Combine, but such equipment had either worn out or been destroyed decades since.

While it would take the DEST team's _Leopard_ three weeks to reach Caph, the third planet in the Beta Cassiopeiae system, it would only take the CSS _Steam_ eight days to reach the Apex jump point from the second planet in the system on silent running, and unlike the DEST team, they did not fear detection once they arrived at their target.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Apex Jump Point.

December 28th, 2908

Bridge of the _Tanto_.

"Sir," Wakami said, "I may be detecting a hostile vessel attempting to approach us under stealth an indeterminate distance from us, no more than five thousand kilometers, but closing."

"May?" Yagama asked his subordinate, making his displeasure at the man's uncertainty clear.

"_Hai_, _Sho-sa_," Wakami said, "I am limited in the use of passive sensors, but I am detecting something that greatly resembles the drive wake of a fusion engine. The reason for the uncertainty, is that it is far too large to belong to any class of dropship known, even the _Mammoths_ I have detected in-system."

"If you were to extrapolate the scale of the drive wash you are detecting," Yagama said after a moment's thought, "How large of a vessel would it be appropriate to?"

"I am not certain, _Sho-sa_," Wakami said, frowning at his display, "Perhaps three quarters of a million tons?"

"_Kuso_," Yagama breathed, then turned to address the rest of the bridge crew, "Begin powering up the Jump Drive, and open a channel to the _Gora_ and the _Wushu_."

((()))

Bridge of the _Steam_, 1000 KM from Apex Jump Point.

"Their KF-drives are lighting up, captain," Brianna Stocking, the _Steam's_ sensor officer said, "Looks like they've spotted us."

"Go hot on the drives!" The Captain snapped, "I want us in their face _now_."

"Aye aye sir!" The helmsman returned smartly, his hands dancing over his control console, and the ship rumbled as her massive drives began to burn.

"Guns," The Captain said, turning to face the small pit set aside for the weapons officers, "I want that warning salvo fired off ASAP."

"Aye sir," The chief gunnery officer said, and nodded to one of her subordinates.

((()))

Bridge of the _Tanto_.

"Oh _Kami,_" One of the bridge crewers breathed, but Yagama was too horror-struck himself to respond.

Wakami, a skilled officer of some experience, which was why he had been made part of this mission, had acquired a sensor lock on the vessel he had barely detected as a sensor shadow moments before, and as per SOP, had immediately acquired a visual and placed it on the bridge's main viewscreen.

It was enormous, every bit as large as Wakami had estimated it might be, and bore the weapon blisters that no-one in the Draconis Combine had seen on a Jump-capable ship for fifty years.

"It's a _Warship!_" Wakami breathed, his voice just short of panic, "What do we _do?_"

Yagama shook off his shock, then opened his mouth to speak.

The CSS _Steam's_ guns, however, spoke first. 'Spoke' in a purely metaphysical sense, as in space, no sound reached the _Tanto_ or her sister ships. The five Heavy Naval Particle Projection Cannons the _Steam_ fired, however, made more than enough light to make up for it, sending massive incandescent streams of charged particles screaming mere dozens of meters from the hull of all three _Scout-_class Jumpships, as well as the two _Overlord_-class dropships docked to them.

Silence fell over the bridge again, as every man and woman aboard realized that they were totally, completely, and utterly outclassed.

"S-sir," The _Tanto_'s communications officer said, her trembling voice breaking the silence, "I'm receiving a hail from the Warship, which identifies itself as the CSS _Steam_."

Yagama clenched his jaws, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, there was no fear, no horror, only purpose-driven warrior.

"Accept the hail," Yagama said firmly.

The bridge's primary display flickered, replacing the visual of the massive warship with the image of a startlingly short brown-haired man with hard blue eyes, wearing a grey and blue uniform.

"I," He said, "Am Cameron Ivo, and you are in violation of Caph's territory. As you bring military transports loaded with Battlemechs into our neutral territory, and have not left within a reasonable period of the required time to recharge your Jump Drives, the Nation of Caph has interpreted your presence here as an act of war. You will surrender both your Jumpships and your dropships to us immediately, or we will annihilate your entire flotilla. Any attempt to activate your Jump Drives will be met with instant lethal force."

Yagama's heart quailed within him at the dishonor of what was now to come, for though he and his crew would live, he had lost the Coordinator three irreplaceable Jumpships due to his failure to act swiftly. Yagama cursed his cowardly self, but, following in the de-facto rules of warfare since the beginning of the Third Succession War, did what he knew he must.

"We surrender," He said, each syllable of each word a painful lash against his honor.

((()))

System Beta Cassiopeiae

Planet Caph.

January 21st, 2909

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace, Duchess' office.

Duchess Samantha Gustafson, who had succeeded her father when he had died of old age in 2887, smiled as she invited Cameron Ivo Junior into her office. His visits to her office had been rare since he took command of the _Steam, _Caph's newest _Skirmisher_-class Frigate when it had been launched in 2904, something she regretted. She particularly regretted the fact that it meant she had to deal with his younger children pouting whenever she had to explain to them, _again_, why she had 'sent daddy away.'

Sometimes being the Commander-In-Chief of Caph's entire military _sucked_.

"Good to see you again, Cameron," Samantha said warmly.

"And you, Duchess," Cameron returned.

"Ah-ah!" Samantha said, waggling her finger at Cameron, "Names, not titles when we're in private! I helped Amanda change your diapers when you were a tyke, I think I'm entitled to some familiarity!"

Cameron just rolled his eyes, growing up around his mother had made him functionally immune to public embarrassment. Or it may have been more accurate to say the embarrassment centers of his brain had been burnt out via overuse.

"Well then, _Samantha_," Cameron said, "What did you want to talk with me about."

"Ah yes," Samantha said, "We have probably just experienced the most one-sided invasion attempt in the history of the Inner Sphere, as you know, but even though the only loss of life were some of the Kuritans who suicided, and we gained a trio of Jumpships courtesy of the DCMS, nice job on that by the way, we still cannot allow this to stand un-countered, or the Coordinator may decide to send another, larger fleet, to find out what happened to the first one."

"While sending more Jumpships to find out why the last three mysteriously disappeared wounds an awful like sounding good money after bad," Cameron said wryly, "The Draconis military is rather noted for putting pride before reason."

"Indeed," Samantha said, "So we'll have to do something in retaliation. Something substantial enough to make a point to whichever Kurita is on the throne right now, but indirect enough to not let the Inner Sphere at large know we're still around."

"That'd be a bit of a trick," Cameron said, "Fortunately that same ego will spur the Coordinator to keep our little rebuke a secret if we deliver it deftly enough."

"Indeed," Samantha said, "Any bright ideas on where we should hit them then?"

"Hmmm…" Cameron said, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully, and considering what he knew of the Draconis Combine at large, and the DCMS in particular.

Several minutes of easy silence passed between the two, Cameron thinking, Samantha waiting patiently while she toyed with a few idle thoughts herself.

"I think I may have an idea," Cameron said, grinning sharkishly at Samantha, "Have you ever heard of the planet Irece?"

"It rings a faint bell," Samantha said, "Why don't you tell me about it?"

((()))

System Luthien

Planet Luthien

July 4th, 2911

Imperial City, Capital of the Draconis Combine

Imperial Palace.

Shinjiro Kurita glared down at the messenger that laid prostate before him, doing an excellent job of concealing her fear.

"Please repeat the message, _Chu-i,_" he said flatly.

"_Hai,_ Coordinator-_sama_," The woman said, "I was sent from the world of Irece, where I was an engineer within the Land-Air Mech factory. Some three months ago, while my construction team were working on one of the transformation joints for a LAM, I was struck from behind, and rendered unconscious. When I regained consciousness, I found myself, as well as the seven members of my team, and all thirty-six infantry men that guard the factory laid out along a hill some miles from the factory, restrained with steel rope.

"A single man wearing armor that completely obscured his body stood before me, a rifle weapon I was unfamiliar with held in his hands. He brandished this weapon, and then demanded a volunteer from amongst us. My daughter is a member of my work-crew, so in fear for her life, I volunteered myself. The man pulled me to my feet, and cut my bonds. I was then required to distribute a set of what I believe were modified welding goggles to the various captives, placing them over their faces, and don a pair myself.

"Then the man told us to watch, directing our attention towards the factory. Some minutes later, a massive explosion destroyed the factory, as best I could tell the blast originated from within, and it formed into the shape of a mushroom cloud. In the moments between when we could see the blast, and when the sound-wave struck, the man turned to me and charged me to deliver this message:

"'This is a punitive measure. Leave Caph in its neutrality, or next we shall strike Luthien.'"

Shinjiro Kurita, Coordinator of Worlds of the Draconis Combine, sat back on his throne and scowled.

This _displeased_ him.

((()))

End Chapter 2.

((()))


	4. Chapter 3

AN: This has been up twice on Spacebattles, and modified after each posting. I think I managed to strip all the format tags out, but I may have missed a few. Also, it's largely told in timeline format.

((()))

Chapter 3, On the Far Side of the Sphere

(Or, the Ivo Family's Ultimate Road Trip In Space.)

System Caph

Planet Caph

August 29th, 2911

City of Aswan, Planetary Capital.

Duke's Palace.

"I've decided on a destination," Samantha Gustafson said, "Taurus, capital of the Taurian Concordat."

"Sounds good," Cameron said, "If there's any Periphery state that would want to pull one over on the Inner Sphere, it'd be them."

"Indeed," Samantha said, smiling, "We finished compiling the cover story your ship and crew will be using, and the particulars are, well," Samantha tried to contain a laugh, ended up snorting instead, and decided to just get on with it, "I know you're familiar with the basic concept, but the particulars, are that you'll be from a deep-periphery nation named, ahem, _Caffeine_."

Cameron rolled his eyes, but refused to dignify the chosen name with a verbal response.

"Yes," Samantha said, smirking, "This selection _may_ have had something to do with the fact that the committee in charge of all this kept waffling, so I had them all locked into a room with no beds, but plenty of coffee, until they agreed on something."

"And this got approved, _how_ exactly?" Cameron asked.

"It'll allow you to claim 'Caph' is just the abbreviated form of 'Caffiene," Samantha said, "And we won't have to teach over a hundred thousand people, most of them civvies, to _not_ slip up and say 'Caph.'"

Cameron closed his eyes and sighed.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what the rest of the cover story is," He said wearily.

"Aside from where we're from," Samantha said, "It's mostly the truth. We're an isolated world that has developed technology lost to the Inner Sphere during the Succession Wars, and we decided to visit Periphery states first, because they're 'closer,' as well as less likely to get grabby with our stuff. Taurian concordat first, because they've always been fiercely independent, as well as having little reason to think fondly of the Star League. The full brief will be declassified once you leave the system."

"What sort of support can we expect?"

"Well," Samantha said, looking down to the console built in her desk, and tapping in a few commands, "It'll take about thirteen months to spread our HPG relay out to Taurus, including the drops we plan on having you make along the way. For closer support though, we'll be sending the _Caph Prime_ out to Taurian space with you. The idea is to have it try to run down some of the deep periphery pirates in secret, gain some experience with covert military operations, and some combat experience at the same time. Captain Bishanti will not be under your direct command, but I'll leave modifying his orders if necessary to your discretion until such time as we get the network out that far."

"If he's out hunting pirates," Cameron said, "He won't be close enough to help if we get ambushed."

"I know," Samantha said, sighing and running a hand through her hair, a habit of hers when she was frustrated that Cameron was quite familiar with, "But we just don't have enough jump-capable ships to give you the escort I'd like. Once the _Calvin_ is out of the Shipyard, we'll be beginning construction on three more _Skirmisher _hulls simultaneously, but it'll be at least two years before we can launch another one, and until then, I can't justify having three quarters of our combat-capable Jumpships on the same deployment, if Caph ends up with a single frigate protecting her."

"And we can't really pass up the opportunity to give our men some real combat experience, even if it leaves the _CJ_ somewhat exposed," Cameron said, sighing himself "I don't suppose mom has any bright ideas on how to fix this?"

"Nothing yet," Samantha said, "She's mostly been working with the teams going over the material we recovered from Irece, but Mandy's been keeping pretty tight reign on her, as her health is pretty fragile these days."

"I know," Cameron said, smiling wryly, "Mandy practically had to sit on her to keep her from getting out of bed to hug me when I visited her earlier."

"I think everybody in the palace is aware of how fragile Amanda has become," Mandy said, "Except for Amanda herself."

"That's my mother," Cameron said, smiling.

((()))

October 8th, 2911: The _CSS Calvin Joliet_ is launched.

May 8th, 2912: _CSS Calvin Joliet _arrives in Taurus system and soon begins conducting trade aimed to expand and modernize the Taurian Concordat's economy in a profitable manner. The _Calvin Joliet's_ more advanced metal processing and space-based mining operations begin undercutting local mining and processing concerns. The _Skirmisher-_class frigate _Caph Prime_, having escorted the _Joliet_ to Taurus, proceeds to the deep periphery and commences pirate-hunting operations.

((()))

System Caph

Planet Caph

October 8th, 2911

Caph Orbit, Caph Shipyards.

Bridge of the _Calvin Joliet_.

"Well," Commodore Cameron Ivo Junior said, "Let's launch this beast, and get going with our shake-down cruise."

"Aye-aye sir," Lieutenant Claire, the ship's navigator said, "Away we go."

((()))

System Taurus

Apex Jump Point

May 8th, 2912

_Calvin Joliet_-class Industrial Ship _Calvin Joliet_

Ship's Bridge.

"Well," Cameron said, a slight grin on his face, as he looked at the Bridge's primary display, showing the fiery ball of Taurus far beneath them, "Here we are."

"Yes sir," Claire said, "Here we are."

"Taurus," Cameron mused idly, "Did you know the Taurian Concordat was once more advanced than the Fedsuns or Capellans?"

"Yes sir, I did," Claire said.

"Of course you did," Cameron said, rolling his eyes, "It was in the mission brief."

"That's entirely possible, sir," Claire said.

"Tell me then, Lieutenant," Cameron said, "Where would you recommend we park ourselves?"

"Well, sir," Claire said, "Considering that the Taurus system is quite possibly the only system aside from Terra with surviving system defenses, I would recommend we remain parked at the Apex Jump Point until we've received permission to move in-system."

"By Jove," Cameron said, snapping his finger, "I do believe that sounds like a plan, I'd better tell the helmsmen!"

He paused a moment, then:

"Helmsman," He said, completely straight-faced.

"Yes sir," Claire said, also straight faced.

"Lay in a course to park us just outside the Apex Jump Point, wouldn't want to run afoul of someone else jumping in, would we?"

"Yes sir," Claire said.

The rest of the bridge crew struggled not to laugh.

"Speaking of other Jumpships, sir," Lieutenant-Commander Joel McMahon, the CJ's Chief Sensor Officer, said, "I'm picking up transmission reflections that most probably mean two Jumpships at the Nadir point."

"Jefferson," Ivo said, turning to Lieutenant Omar Jefferson, the ship's CAG, "Send out a shuttle for us to bounce signals off of, would you?"

"Sir," Jefferson said, nodding, then turning to address his underlings.

"Alright then," Cameron said, turning back to his console, "I suppose it's time for me to start composing a message to the Taurian government."

((()))

System Taurus

Planet Taurus

May 8th, 2912

City of Samantha, Planetary Capital

Protector's Palace.

"Sir!" Thomas Grey said as he burst into George 's bedroom, "Sir, you are needed in the War Room immediately!"

George Calderon, Protector of the Taurian Concordat, aborted his intended rebuke to his subordinate the instant that the word 'War' passed the man's lips. Instead he rolled out of bed, careful to not drag the blanket off of his wife as he did so, and reached for his emergency trousers.

"What's going on?" Calderon demanded as he pulled his pants on.

"Something just appeared at the Apex Jump Point," Grey gasped, clearly having sprinted the entire short distance from the War Room, "It's either one ship massing twenty million tons, or a whole fleet of Jumpships that appeared at the exact same instant, we're not sure yet."

"Both of which," Calderon said, zipping up his pants and then standing, "Are supposed to be impossible."

"Yessir," Grey said.

"Looks like I'll be working late tonight, honey," Calderon said to his still dazed and confused wife, "See you in the morning."

Then he turned to Grey.

"Let's go," He said.

((()))

"What's the situation?" Calderon said as he strode into the War Room.

"We have a confirmed single contact," Admiral Clause Schneider, head of the SASF said, looking up from the data display built into the arm of his chair, "Massing at just over twenty million tons. It arrived at the Apex Jump Point approximately twelve minutes ago, and launched a single shuttle three minutes later. Our sensor platforms have picked up twelve dropships docked to its hull, at least four of them _Mammoth _-class, the others possibly heavily modified variants thereof."

"At least a passingly common tech base then," Calderon said, moving to take the Protector's seat within the room, "Do we have anything else for sure?"

"Not just yet-" Schneider cut himself off, "Hold that sir, we're receiving a transmission from them. I'm putting it up on the main screen."

The 'War Room' in the Protector's Palace was, in truth mostly a 'keep track of the war' room for the Protector's benefit, while any _real_ strategy and planning would be handled at the War College. As such, it was essentially a modest-sized conference room specifically equipped for handling briefings and live updates about military matters, though it had not served the latter purpose since the Reunification Wars. The main screen that Schneider was referring to occupied most of one wall, and had sufficiently high resolution to allow effectively detailed strategic maps to be displayed. Now though, a young man appeared on the screen.

The only thing to provide perspective visible in the shot was the command chair he was strapped into, but it gave the impression he was rather on the small side. He was wearing a simple gray uniform jumpsuit, had dark hair, blue eyes, a tanned complexion, and showed a mischevious smile as he began to speak.

"I am Cameron Ivo," He said, his smile bleeding over into his voice, "Captain of the CSS _Calvin Joliet_, and Industrial Ship from the world of Caffeine. Please don't laugh, I'm sure your world is half as dependent upon the blessed bean as ours is. Anyways, We're here to trade, primarily in advanced technologies and consumer goods. Give us a ring if you're interested! If not, we'll be jumping out in a week, after we've finished charging our drives."

"Well," George said, "I didn't expect that."

"I don't think any of us did," Schneider said, "I wonder what they mean by 'advanced technologies'?"

"Only one way to find out," Calderon said, "I'll have to send a message back."

((()))

"I am George Calderon, Protector of the Taurian Concordat," The middle-aged man on the screen said, "We of the Taurian Concordat are always interested in new trade partners, however, we have never heard of your world before, nor seen such a massive vessel. We will allow an emissary with escorts to pass through our defense grid. However, no more than four Battlemechs or Aerospace Fighters will be permitted."

"Well," Cameron said, "Looks like we've got business, eh?"

"So it would appear, sir," Claire said.

"Pack light, Lieutenant," Cameron said, "We're going on a trip!"

((()))

System Taurus

Planet Taurus

May 16th, 2912

City of Samantha, Planetary Capital

Spaceport.

_Mammoth_-class dropships are named such for a reason. Resembling a somewhat squashed sphere more than two hundred meters in diameter with engines on externally mounted pods around its waist, it stand over one hundred and seventy meters tall when resting on its retractable landing gear.

From Cameron's point of view, it also gave a wonderfully commanding perspective of the area surrounding wherever it happened to have landed. One hundred and seventy meters was a good fifty stories or so, and while Samantha had a goodly number of Skyscrapers, he still could see most of the city from the observation deck at the top level.

"Quite the view, isn't it?" Cameron said.

"If you say so sir," Claire said blandly, standing beside him on the observation deck.

"Consider it said," Cameron said, grinning, "How much longer do you think they're going to make us wait?"

'Most probably until they consider us adequately humbled, sir," Claire said.

"Most probably," Cameron said, turning back to enjoy the sights some more, "I wonder when they'll realize their bright plan is only going to backfire?"

"That would depend upon how intelligent they are," Claire said, "I doubt they will realize until you see fit to let them know."

"We'll see," Cameron said, smiling, "We'll see."

((()))

"Finally decided to drop by, I see," Cameron observed with more than a little amusement, as he stared down at the train of armored cars approaching the Dropship.

"So it would seem, sir," Claire said.

"Well," Cameron said, "Why don't you go down to invite them up here for our little chat?"

"Yes sir," Claire said, saluting Cameron with _exquisite_ precision, then turning to the elevator shaft at the center of the ship and walking away.

((()))

The _Mammoth's_ cargo bay doors were suitably large, as well as numerous, though only a single one had been lowered to the spaceport's ferrocrete surface. By the time the convoy arrived, Lieutenant Claire was waiting at the top of the ramp, remarkably disinterested expression in place.

Thomas Gray's attention was torn between the young woman's disinterested expression, and the fact that she was a foot and a half taller than him. _She has to be seven feet tall_, he noted with a sort of detached amazement, _are they all this big? It would certainly suit the size of dropship they appear to favor._

While her outfit was clearly a uniform, it was a casual one at best. Formed of a gray jumpsuit with a collar, the collar held rank tags that he was unfamiliar with, but weren't terribly ornate, meaning either an unusual rank system, or a low rank. Unlike many people of her size, she had no obvious misproportioning between her limbs and torso, and was overall of an average build, neither particularly heavy or slender, for her massive height.

She also was somehow managing an expression of attentive disinterest as Gray and his quartet of escorts exited their armored car and walked up the ramp.

"The Captain extends an invitation for you and your party to meet with him on our observation deck, Mister Gray," She said, her tone full of polite indifference.

Gray started slightly at the use of his name, as none of the exchanged messages had informed the people from the _Calvin Joliet_ that he would be the one sent to negotiate with them. He swiftly decided that was of secondary importance to his actual objectives, however.

"I will be happy to meet him there," Thomas said, "If you would lead the way?"

"Certainly, Mister Gray," She said, still not offering her own name, as she turned and gestured for him to follow her into the dropship.

She efficiently led them through the main cargo hold, which was chock-full of sealed cargo containers, towards the core of the dropship.

"If you don't mind me asking, ah, Miss…?"

"My rank is Lieutenant Junior-Grade," The woman said, "What did you wish to ask?"

_Your name_, Gray thought, but he wasn't about to ask again after such a blatant evasion, so asked the second question on his mind instead.

"How is it you know my name, Lieutenant?" He asked instead.

"Your occupation and personal appearance are a matter of public record here on Taurus," The Lieutenant said, "You have appeared in many public functions with the Protector."

Gray rather abruptly realized that the eight hours that the Protector had been tied up dealing with the General Assembly's whinging about what was happening had given the new arrivals plenty of time to gather information from local broadcasts and sources about Taurus. Information that would be useful to them in either an invasion, or in gaining an edge in trade negotiations. Gray's respect for the elected legislative branch of the Taurian government, which had been steadily shrinking since he began working for the Protector, took another hit.

_Really_, he thought, _you would have thought the eight days it took them to get here would have been enough for the Assembly. _

The rest of their passage through the dropship's interior passed silently, save for the sound of the lift that carried them up to the obvservation deck near the top of the craft, and their shoes against the dropship's metal deck. When they reached the observation deck, Gray was surprised to discover that the entire deck was unpartitioned, resulting in a single open space, populated with chairs, tables, sofas, and what looked like a bar around the central lift-shaft.

Currently, the sole occupants were himself, his four guards, the Lieutenant, and a man standing in front of the transparent hull that formed the outer bulkhead of the entire deck.

"Captain Ivo awaits," The Lieutenant said, gesturing for Gray to proceed across the deck towards the man.

Gray considered the man for a moment, before signaling his guards to remain by the lift, and cross the deck himself.

"Greetings, Mister Gray," Ivo said as Gray approached, not yet turning from the windows, "This is a beautiful city."

Stepping up beside Captain Ivo, Gray looked out over the city himself, a sight he had seen many times from the surrounding skyscrapers, if never from this exact angle.

"Indeed," He said, "It is the gem of the Concordat, and the most populous and wealthy planet in the Periphery. I suppose it is not surprising if you came seeking trade outside of the Great Houses, it would be here."

"Exactly!" Cameron said, turning to face Gray with a broad grin, "If we showed up over, say, Luthien, with a Jumpship full of what most of the Inner Sphere considers Lostech, they'd probably just try to seize it by Imperial Decree, then track us back home and invade our world."

"And you think we wouldn't?" Gray asked curiously.

"I think you _couldn't_," Cameron said firmly, "The _Calvin Joliet_ is carrying four _Mammoth-A_ class dropships, the A standing for Assault, as well as over three hundred Aerospace Fighters."

Gray's eyes widened slightly at that number; it comprised more than twice the number of ASF's in Taurus entire garrison force.

"While we only have a single company of Battlemechs and no armor," Ivo continued, "And lack the manpower to form massive infantry formations, and thus, lack the ability to effectively assault or hold a major planet, we are _more_ than capable of protecting ourselves from most threats in space."

"That kind of force disposition sounds outright deliberate," Gray said.

"That's because it is," Cameron said, shrugging, "We've been out of contact with the Inner Sphere for a long time, and so we sent some scouts into the periphery to see what was up before making contact. We had a pretty good idea what we were getting into before we came out here, and knew it was risky business."

"If it was so risky," Gray asked, "Why did you come?"

"A couple of reasons," Cameron said, a sharkish grin which Gray found genuinely disturbing appearing on his face, "The big two are to help the rest of mankind rebuild their tech base, and to get filthy rich doing it."

"You expect to do that well here at Taurus if we open trade?" Gray asked raising an eyebrow.

"No," Cameron said, his grin intensifying, "I _know_ we'll do that well. My people have already negotiated almost two dozen contracts with local industries, including Magna Metals Incorporated, and Taurus Territorial Industries."

Gray resisted the urge to groan and plant his face in his palm. If the people from Caffeine had already negotiated contracts with the two largest arms producers on Taurus, there would be hell to pay in the Assembly if the Protector turned them away. He _knew_ the beaurocratic dilly-dallying would cost them.

"I suspect," He said, his voice only showing slight strain, "That we will indeed become trading partners."

Ivo's grin just intensified even further.

((()))

May 21st, 2912: An 'accident' results in the Comstar compound on Taurus being the site of a toxic chemical dump, forcing an evacuation. By the time the site is cleared, 'vandals and looters' have stolen many personal effects, irreparably damaged key components of the HPG, and stole all replacement parts.

November 2912: Caph's HPG network reaches Taurus, allowing real-time transmissions between Caph and the _Calvin Joliet_.

June 2912-July 2913: Advanced consumer electronics saturate Taurus' economy, a Caph-based firm implements extremely cheaply available access to a global internet. Operating costs for most businesses drop significantly due to increased efficiency, Taurian economy begins accelerated growth. Caph-originating entertainment media also begins to saturate Taurian markets.

September 2913: Word of the technology the _Calvin Joliet_ is trading with Taurus reaches the First Circuit, a large contingent of Rho division ROM personnel are sent to the Concordat to learn more, and deal with the situation. They are sent as as part of the 'increased security' protecting the replacement parts for the Taurus HPG.

April 2914: The _Caph Prime_ is relieved by the frigates _Paul Gustafson_ and the _George Washington, _piracy along the borders of the Taurian Concordat, already in decline, rapidly plummets. This leads to increased economic and population growth as piracy no longer impinges upon the Concordat's populace.

((()))

System Taurus

Planet Taurus

November 8th, 2915

City of Samantha, Planetary Capital

Protector's Palace.

"I was hoping," George Calderon said to the hologram of Cameron Ivo, "That you might be able to shed some light on all of this."

Cameron stared at him intently for a few moments before speaking.

"How secure is this connection on your end?" He asked.

"As secure as any transmission to orbit can be," George said.

"Well, no reason not to explain it then," Cameron said, "When we came to the Taurian Concordat, the _Calvin Joliet_ was escorted by a _Skirmisher-_class Frigate. Our navy is pretty new, so she spent two years cutting her teeth on pirates in the region, before she was relieved by another pair, who've just about exterminated the pirates around the Concordat now. One of them will probably be moving along to the Magistracy of Canopus soon, to start pirate-hunting there."

George sat back in his seat, jaw working as his mind whirled furiously through the implications of what he had just been told.

"You've had Warships in Taurian territory for _years_," He bit out, "While trading with us from behind a mask."

"We've had Jumpships or Warships through _every_ major power in both the Inner Sphere and the Periphery," Cameron corrected, "Unlike the Successor Houses and Periphery powers, we _know_ how Jumpdrives do and don't work, and aren't afraid of getting caught out when we jump into uninhabited systems. We've been gathering intelligence on the state of things with mankind at large for a long time now. The Taurian Concordat is just the beginning, we intend to modernize _every_ nation within human territory, starting from the Periphery and working our way in."

"Why start on the Periphery?" Calderon asked, expression a neutral mask.

"Because," Ivo said, "Moving the power distribution amongst mankind into something a bit more balanced can only benefit us. We're more advanced than any faction except for Comstar, but we're still only a single world. Our 'secret master plan' is to spread our technology all across the Inner Sphere, so that when someone eventually does find our home world, everyone else will already have our cool stuff anyways, and we'll be _way_ more trouble than it's worth to try to take down."

Calderon was silent as he considered Ivo's words, for a long, long time. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before he spoke again.

"What guarantee do I have that you're not preparing the Taurian Concordat to be invaded?" He eventually said.

"The fact that aside from having a Warship running along your border wiping out pirate bands, and keeping where we're actually from a secret, we've been entirely forthright with you in our dealings?" Cameron said with a 'I'm being helpful' smile.

"I suppose," Calderon said after a while, "That that'll have to be good enough. I suppose you won't want me spreading this around the Inner Sphere?"

"You'd be right," Ivo said, that almost frighteningly mischevious grin spreading across his face, "Special bonus though, I'll let you in on a little secret. Once we're done with our infrastructure building mission here, we'll leave you with the technology for building Jumpdrives."

_That_ was something George knew he could score political capital with, even if he only shared it amongst the political faction heads.

"Well then," Calderon said, "In order to simplify things for when I have to deal with the Assembly, I'm officially asking you, as Protector of the Taurian Concordat, to give us some help with our pirate problems."

"We'd be happy to oblige!" Ivo said jovially.

"And," Calderon said, "Since you've asked me to keep things hush, and haven't charged the Concordat anything for the services of your navy, I, of course, agreed to your request."

"Of course!" Ivo said, his grin beginning to seriously creep Calderon out.

"Well," Calderon said, "_That_ should take care of dealing with the political crap from all this down the road."

((()))

April 2914: Comstar replacement parts and ROM teams reach Taurus; HPG operations restored, Rho division's investigation into 'Caffeine' begin.

May 2914: Caph's orbital shipyards begin construction of _Worker Bee_-class automated jumpships. These Jumpships are used to form a circuit, developing into a command circuit, between Caph and the Taurian Concordat, allowing trade to begin to flow.

July 2914: Local Taurian mining and processing concerns goes bankrupt. _Caph_-based firms from the _Calvin Joliet_ buy them out, modernize their operations, and continue business at reduced cost and slightly increased profit.

January 2917: CSS _Calvin Joliet_ moves on from Taurus to New Ganymede to develop the infrastructure involved in mining the planet's heavy element deposits, and Caph-built HPG's are deployed at both planets, operated by Caffeine Communications Incorporated. Expecting eventual attack, the HPG's are both in heavily fortified facilities.

((()))

The Caph HPG network:

Conceived and designed after the CAF captured three _Scout_-class Jumpships from the failed DCMS assault on Caph in 2908, the Caph HPG network is likely to be the single longest running, and longest to fully pay off, project begun during Caph's time in isolation. Despite the impression Comstar has created with their massive HPG stations, featuring imposing transmission dish arrays, HPG transmission arrays were sometimes as small as twelve tons during the days of the Star League.

While Caph's technological base had not yet developed so far as to produce 12 ton variants of an HPG in 2908, they _had_ managed to reduce them down to closer to 50 tons. This, combined with their sudden possession of a trio of Jumpships that were unarmed and practically unarmored, and therefore unsuitable for risking in travel through inhabited systems in the Inner Sphere, meant they had both the hardware, and the ability to deliver it, to begin the assembly of their own HPG network.

This also marked the first time Hyperspace technology was released to public dissemination by the Caph government; interested parties were given six months to work with the data on HPG science, study designs and HPG's already constructed, and make a bid on producing independent space-based relays for the project. In the end, two different designs were accepted, the Tortoise array by Caph Telecom, which was a cost and space efficient design with four HPG transmission/reception arrays built into it, and excellent data handling, and the modular Void-Beamer design by Steven Enterprises, which featured a higher initial cost for the core module, but cheaper per-transmitter cost for each additional relay.

Unlike the Comstar network, the Caph network was designed with the explicit intention of maintaining live data-contact between all transmission relays at all times, hence the need for multiple transmitters at each relay. The Tortoise array would be the initial deployment platform, and used in subsidiary systems in regions where the network was completed, while the Void-Beamer would be installed in hub systems, and expanded module by module to meet rising demand as more and more portions of the local network were linked to it.

Ironically, due to the automated nature of the network, and lack of surrounding compound and attendant personnel, the Caph network would ultimately be cheaper than the Comstar network, despite the higher initial start up cost, and larger number of HPG's per station. The initial construction cost, of course, was prohibitive, especially considering the lack of commercial use to recoup losses, but the initial stages were underwritten by the military, at the cost of substantially reduced ASF production in the meantime.

The HPG relays were emplaced in unoccupied systems with no inhabitable planets, for the explicit purpose of remaining inaccessible to and undetected. Placed on rogue asteroids, moons, and planetoids, the stations were always located in either difficult-to-scan locations, or buried underground outright if sufficiently large cave systems were available.

Once the _Calvin Joliet_ and subsequent vessels of the class were launched, the network was primarily constructed to link Caph to the worlds they were sent to. This provided limited commercial use, as the population of the CJ_'s _used them to remain in contact with Caph, but nowhere near enough to recoup development costs. This resulted in an extremely lopsided network development, with single strands of relays running to the Periphery, and then clusters of network availability in Periphery states that had done business with the CJ's. All of this would change with the advent of the Fourth Succession War.

((()))

February 2917: Comstar sees the opportunity to begin curbing the _Calvin Joliet's_ activity, and 'politely' demands that CCInc remand custody of their HPG's to Comstar, citing Comstar's given role as the wardens of the HPG network and advanced technology. CCInc replies that as Comstar's mandate descends from the Star League, and as CCInc was never part of the Star League, the mandate does not apply. Comstar attempts to cite the Taurian Concordat's former status as part of the Star League, the Protector points out that the Taurian Concordat was pulled into the Star League by force of arms, and was happy to see it go.

July 2917: CSS _Calvin Joliet_ completes infrastructure upgrade at New Ganymede and moves on to New Vallis.

August 2917: A ROM strike team from Rho division attacks the New Ganymede HPG compound, disguised as MI6 agents. The facility was constructed and prepared for exactly such a contingency, but the Rho team attacks in greater numbers, and with more powerful weaponry, than expected, and the facility is destroyed. The duration of the fight up until the Hyper-pulse Generator itself was destroyed, however, were transmitted live to Taurus, where Protector Calderon viewed the attack live. The Rho personnel's attempt at posing as MI6 agents fails when they are blatantly more interested in destroying, rather than capturing, the technology at the facility.

January 2918: Taurian military attacks and either seizes or destroys every Comstar compound in the Concordat. Caffeine Communications Incorporated is hired to operate the captured facilities, and the CSS _Calvin Joliet's _manufactories are used to begin replacing the lost HPG's.

February 2918: Comstar declares Interdiction of the Taurian Concordat for 'unprovoked' attacks on Comstar facilities, and warns that any state that continues to trade with the Concordat will also face Interdiction.

March 2918: Protector Calderon contracts the 'Caffeine' Navy to provide border defense against adventurism from the Capellan Confederation and the Federated Suns. The _Calvin Joliet_'s heavy industry spends 11 months exclusively producing Aerospace Superiority Fighters to meet this demand.

April 2918: All planets of the Taurian Concordat are linked to continual live HPG uplink grid, forming a true interstellar data network.

2918-2924: Magistracy of Canopus delays cutting trade ties with Taurian Concordat, blaming red tape. Magistracy and Inner Sphere intelligence agencies, primarily Capellan and Suns, run intelligence gathering operations through the Magistracy into Taurian space, and word reaches the Successor Lords personally of the technological renaissance taking place in the Concordat.

May 2922: The _Paul Gustafson_ joins the _George Washington_ in a final push against the Tortuga Dominions, the last pirate Jumpship is destroyed by the year's end. Taurian Concordat makes plans to colonize/conquer the systems formerly controlled by the pirates.

September 2924: The CSS _Digital Dawn_, Caph's second _Calvin Joliet-class_ Industrial Ship is launched.

April 2925: CSS _Digital Dawn_ arrives at the Magistracy of Canopus and commences trade, carrying a primary initial cargo of Hyper-pulse Generators. The Magestrix privately informs local Comstar officials that if it's a choice between CCInc and Comstar, the Magistracy will let the free market decide. Due to Comstar's rising conflict with the new Coordinator of the Draconis Combine, issues in Canopus are declared of secondary interest to the First Circuit and Primus, and Comstar is forced to compete with CCInc.

November 2925: Envoys from the Successor Lords make covert contact with Captain Gloriana Ghoubash of the CSS _Digital Dawn_. Negotiations for the services of a 'Caffeine' Industrial Ship are brief, but cordial, and it is explained that once the Inner Sphere is no longer in an active state of war, as they have been for the last 59 years, the 'Caffeine' Industrial Fleet will be quite happy to open up trade with more secure markets. In the meantime, they will not be trading with _any_ of the Successor States, as they have no desire to aggravate the competing powers by a show of favoritism.

Fall, 2930: With the Comstar/Combine conflict resolved, ROM turns its attention to Caph's ventures in the Magistracy of Canopus, and begins moving personnel towards Canopus, en masse.

April, 2932: ROM creates a new division with the explicit purpose of ensuring that all HPG stations are turned over to Comstar's control, Kappa division. In effect, this means their primary focus is covert war over the possession of CCI's installations. Having learned from their disastrous conduct in the Taurian Concordat, all of Kappa division's personnel are forbidden from setting foot within Comstar compounds on any planet but Terra, and operate entirely separately from local Comstar activities.

December 2932: CSS _Calvin Joliet_ completes its tour through the Taurian Concordat, and returns to Caph for furlough.

Indeterminate date, 2933: Com Guards are formed; Caph doubles budgeting for military research in response.

May 2937: The Lothian League re-enters contact with the rest of mankind, seeking aid and assistance due to the recent destruction of their only Jumpships. The CSS _Calvin Joliet's_ furlough is cut short, and it is dispatched to aid the Lothian League. Frigates _Caph Prime _and _Gae Bolg_ serve as escort, rotating between close-escort and pirate-hunting operations.

October 2938: Comstar learns of the existence of the Lothian League, and extends an offer to install HPG facilities within. The League turns Comstar down in favor of CCI.

January 2939: The CSS _Boom Town_ is launched, and sent on trade mission to Outworlds Alliance.

August 2942: Kappa division begins operations in the Lothian League, and sends reconnaissance teams into every Periphery state to look for signs of presence from 'Caffeine's' merchant marine.

June 2944: ROM Kappa cells within Lothian League attempt bombings of CCI's installations, killing dozens and wounding hundreds. Intensive counter-espionage efforts rapidly result in the capture of every Kappa cell within the League, and intensive drug interrogation begins.

February 2945: The CSS _Digital Dawn_ completes its mission in Canopus, and returns to Caph for Furlough.

November 2947: Drug interrogation of Kappa members captured in the Lothian League ends, and surviving members are executed. The Caph Counter-Espionage Agency is formed, based primarily around the policy of recruiting personnel from Periphery states which do not even know of Caph's existence instead of 'Caffeine,' and training and equipping them for anti-ROM operations.

April 2948: The Caph HPG network expands to the point of constant live uplink between Caph, the Taurian Concordat, the Lothian League, the Magistracy of Canopus, and the Outworlds Alliance. Caffeine Communications Incorporated begins funding HPG research privately, as a business interest.

May 2949: ROM Kappa incites street mobs to attack CCI facilities within the Outworlds Alliance; CCI facilities close their blast doors, and accept only digital transactions for the three weeks the riots last. CCEA forces are not yet well organized enough to effectively counter Kappa's actions, so they are forced to simply wait the riots out.

July 2950: CSS _Digital Dawn _begins trade mission to Illyrian Palatinate. Four _Skirmisher-_class Frigates are dispatched to the Circinus Federation for pirate-hunting.

October 2950: A series of 'terrorist' attacks on CCI installations in Canopus strike over a dozen HPG stations, disabling three and destroying one. CCI begins hiring mercenaries as guards.

August 2950-May 2952: Frigate task-force practices 'stalking' techniques against Circinus Jumpships, via use of remote probes and HPG-equipped limpet's deployed via dropship infiltration. Several pirate bolt-holes are discovered via this method, and the pirate jumpships are much more swiftly tracked down and captured or destroyed than during earlier Caph operations in the Tortuga Dominions.

June 2951: ROM Kappa begins attacking CCI personnel in the Outworlds Alliance when they are off base. After more than two dozen die within a week, CCI installations go into lockdown again, and more advanced defense plans are organized. CCEA assets within the Outworlds Alliance are almost completely expended in rescue operations to recover captured CCI staffers, though some are killed before rescue can be achieved.

July 2951: CCEA's head meets with Duke Gustafson and several members of the Ivo family to discuss the rising issues with ROM Kappa. A 'reasonable' solution is agreed upon, and heavy infantry companies are sent to every CCI installation in the OWA. An extremely generous bounty is also posted for the death or capture of ROM Kappa personnel.

October 2951: Caph exploratory patrol discovers the hulk of the LCS _Invincible_ in a dead system in the Free Worlds League. Salvage teams are immediately dispatched.

March 2952: CSS _Calvin Joliet_ completes tour in Lothian League, having constructed six jumpships during its time in the League. Returns to Caph for furlough.

September 2952: Conflict between CCEA and ROM Kappa in Canopus becomes more forceful, the night-time violence on several worlds convincing a number of gangs that someone else is attempting to operate on their turf, sparking a number of bloody turf battles between gangs.

June-December 2954: A ROM Kappa team successfully abducts several CCI staffers from the OWA, and flees off-world. It takes three _Skirmisher_ frigates to hunt down the Jumpship that is attempting to take them to Terra, and little is left of the staffers by the time they are recovered. Duke Gustafson calls another meeting, with the heads of CCI, the CCEA, the Ivo's, and Caph's small surface military. Not noted for half measures, the Duke decides to expand the Caph Army's special forces by several orders of magnitude, and hire them out to CCI to replace the majority of their civilian staff in the OWA. Remaining civilian staff in the OWA will remain entirely within CCI facilities at all times.

June 2954: The CSS _Star Metal_ is launched, fourth and final vessel of the _Calvin Joliet_ class of Industrial Ships. Due to budgeting and political issues, shipyard space is re-allocated to production of _Worker Bee-_class drone ships, and the new _Jotun_-class Battlecruisers, based on a modernization of the recovered _Tharkad_-class LCS _Invincible_. _Star Metal_ is sent for brief trade tour in the Taurian Concordat.

((()))

_Worker Bee_-class Drone Ship:

The concept of drone Jumpships was originally floated in 2919, when it became apparent to some that in order for Caph to maintain _meaningful_ trade relations with the Taurian Concordat, or any other periphery power, the ability to actually ship commercially to and from the Periphery would eventually become necessary. Unfortunately, Caph's industrial technology simply was not capable of manufacturing the requisite number of Jumpships in a cost effective manner, to say nothing of the lack of available shipyard space at the time.

Thirty-five years later, however, the efficiency of Caph's materials processing and manufacturing had expanded near exponentially, and the degree of automation it employed surpassed even that of the Star League at its height, making manufacturing far more efficient, and cost-effective. When the last of the _Calving Joliet_ class vessels was launched, Caph's primary shipyards retooled the massive slip used into one large slip for Battleship production, and more than a dozen smaller slips for drone vessel production.

Designed by Ayagami Autonomics, and produced by almost as many manufacturers as they have parts, the original _Worker Bee_ series of drone jumpships were, in essence, a nav computer, a jump core and attendant systems, a single docking collar, a power plant, a modest drive, and a recharge sail array. No grav deck, living quarters, agro decks, or really much of anything intended for human use, except for maintenance accessways and a generous supply of emergency oxygen canisters. Iterative generation s continually modified the design to make construction more cost-effective, or improve the life-span of critical parts and reduce the need for maintenance.

In deployment role, one of the primary intended functions of the _Worker Bee_, is to serve as 'baton-passing' conveyors; essentially to make every transit passage function as command circuit, allowing a Dropship with a skilled piloting crew to jump from system to system as often as once every half hour, constrained only by how quickly they can detach from one Jumpship, and dock with the next. This would allow a Dropship, theoretically, to cross the entire IS, in a single day. The cost, of course, being that such a transit would require the dedicated service of 30-40 Jumpships, and due to the time delay in recharging and jumping _back, _it would be another two weeks before another dropship could be conveyed along such a circuit.

Due to the speed of delivery, potential military applications, and expectation of further technological advancements continuing to cut construction costs for drone Jumpships, however, the vessels were deployed, and used to begin forming the Caph Trade Network, under the auspices of the Caph Trade Authority.

((()))

July 2955: CSS_ Digital Dawn _completes its tour at Illyria, and returns to Caph for brief furlough.

May 2956: The Hanseatic league declines trade relations with 'Caffeine,' the CSS _Digital Dawn_ instead proceeds to the Chainelane Isles, two frigates acting as escort.

October 2956: The CSS _'Oomie, _a _Skirmisher_-class frigate is destroyed during a surprise boarding action by one of the Chainelane duchies. Five more frigates are dispatched to Chainelaine.

March 2957: ROM Kappa begins paying local gangs in Canopus to attack CCI personnel, paying them even if the attack is utterly ineffective, but vastly more for injuring, and still more for killing, CCI personnel. On several Canopian worlds local CCI heads offer to pay for the mercenaries they hold on retainer to work with local law enforcement to root out the gangs. Some accept the offer.

April 2957: Duke Gustafson authorizes the implementation of similar staffing policies to those practiced in the Outworlds Alliance to CCI station chiefs in Canopus, on a case-by-case basis.

July 2957: ROM Kappa begins distributing heavy arms to gangs under their employ in Canopus. On the Canopian world of Fanardir, three street gangs working in concert successfully breach a CCI facility, and kill or capture all personnel within. Public videos of gang-rapes are released. A member of the Ivo family is amongst those killed in the attack.

August 2957: The Caffeine Trade Authority releases an ultimatum to the Canopian government; either control the violence their citizens are visiting upon its personnel, or CCI will pull out of Canopus. The Magistrix orders local garrison forces on each planet to provide additional security to each CCI facility while she deliberates upon a course of action. On Canopus IV, she requests counsel from the ambassadors of every foreign state, seeing them all collectively, including the local Comstar Precentor. In group council, the Comstar representative recommends the Magestrix expel all CTA factors, as they clearly are a disruptive influence upon Canopus.

August 2957: After conquering the offending Chainelane duchy in an overwhelming display of force, the Commodore in command of the Chainelane deployment successfully negotiates a cease-fire amongst the duchies. Trade and modernization efforts immediately accellerate.

September, 2957: The Magestrix of Canopus offers CCI hand-picked parcels of land on every planet within Canpous that would be treated as Embassies, and thus treated as Caffeine's sovereign territory. She also explicitly states that if the CTA wishes they can "build parking garages for Battlemechs, and stack Atlases ten high if that's what it takes to make you feel safe," and also that Canopus will be willing to negotiate a treaty by which 'heavily armed' Caffeine Law Enforcement officers will be permitted to pursue and arrest criminals in Canopian territory. The CTA immediately accepts, and places orders for 100 Ostroc heavy Battlemechs with the Canopian-based Detroit Consolidated Mechworks. Construction on new CCI/Embassy facilities on the granted lands begins before the end of the year.

Indeterminate date, 2957: Comstar Exploratory Corps founded; Caph's rapidly developing automated merchant traffic through uninhabited systems is abruptly shut down, and refit operations to outfit drone jumpships for hot-loading in deep space are begun. CSS _Calvin Joliet _is immediately dispatched to conduct refit operations as mobile shipyard. CSS _Caph Prime_ again retained as escort, this time without a second frigate.

((()))

A mere three years after it began forming, the Caph Trade Network was in sudden, intense peril of discovery and destruction, and worse, threatened by Caph's greatest enemy, Comstar. Duchess Gustafson ordered the trade network, thus far only extending to Taurus and Canopus to immediately halt operations. Investors bailed from the venture en-mass, and the trade network nearly died before it had truly gotten off the ground. Then, as it often did throughout Caph's history as an independent power, the Ivo family stepped in.

Quite wealthy for a family neither ennobled nor holding mercantile properties by this point in and of themselves, the Ivo family (now totaling hundreds of members over four generations) expended all of their liquid capital, _literally_ all, down to the last child's emptied piggy-bank, on purchasing stock in the CTN. Purchased dirt cheap, they gained nearly a ten percent stake in the CTN. Much more significantly, their investment, combined with Cameron Ivo's personal request of Duchess Gustafson that the _Calvin Joliet_ be dispatched immediately to begin retrofitting the _Worker Bee's_ already constructed for deep space operations, caused a groundswell of support and investment amongst the general public.

Within a week of the initial backers bailing out of their investment in the CTN, 40% of the population of Caph owned at least one share in the CTN venture. The CTN enjoyed the largest inflation of stock price, without having yet made a positive return on investment, of any company since the dot com boom nearly a thousand years before. It also, ironically, ended up with more than twice as much liquid capital invested in its further development than it had possessed during its initial start-up.

Within three months, a new class of _Worker Bee_ vessel, this model stripped of a jump sail apparatus altogether, had been designed, constructed, and tested. Engineers and scientists who had long since claimed that whatever may have originally necessitated the use of solar sails for Jumpship charging had long since been lost to time, and that direct nuclear powering was preferable, suddenly found a great deal more attention paid to their claims. Leaping at the opportunity, said group implemented not only a Jumpship design based off of direct powering, but built it using a uranium-powered fission pile, rather than a hydrogen/helium-powered fusion reactor.

The new design of the _Worker Bee_ was not only fully functional, it was also vastly cheaper, and more stable. The removal of the Jump Sail, as well as the fission pile's use of water for cooling rather than constant need for hydrogen/helium fueling and disposal, dropped not only the initial construction cost, but the cost of maintenance and fueling as well. With all of these factors demonstrated in their first prototype of the new _Worker Bee_, the now organized Little Boy Nuclear Consortium succeeded in gaining a grant from Duchess Gustafson to explore the development and implementation of fission power plants in military and space vehicles and vessels.

The CTN, with its new backing and new, more efficient design, began producing a _Worker Bee_ from each shipyard slip they possessed every three months, accellerating production to 48 new drone Jumpships per yer, and the trade network began to explode across the Inner Sphere, albeit moving almost entirely through dark space.

((()))

February 2957: The CSS _Boom Town _completes its trade mission in the Outworlds Alliance, and goes on furlough.

April 2957: ROM Kappa makes another abduction attempt within the OWA, this time focusing on a single facility rather than moving across the entirety of the OWA. Kappa planners assume that with the lack of naval CTA presence, they will this time be able to escape from OWA space. After assaulting the CCI compound on Ugland with Battlemechs, and nearly losing the entirety of their infantry contingent to the Caph Special Forces personnel staffing the base, the Kappa forces retreat to space with a dozen surviving captives.

May 2957: Two Caph _Skirmisher_ frigates catch up with the Jumpship carrying the CCI personnel captured on Ugland, technically within Draconian space. They discover that it has rendezvoused with the CSV _Montpelier_, a _Dante-_class Comstar Frigate. The Comstar designed class of vessel, designed more for fighting ASF swarms than other Warships, is quickly crippled at range by the CSS _Skeet Shooter_ and the CSS _Naginata_. The _Montpelier's_ captain proves willing to surrender the captives in exchange for POW treatment for his crew, though the Kappa personnel attempt an insurrection when they learn this, and kill two of the captives before the _Montpelier's_ marines successfully put them down. The CSS _Boom Town_ is briefly diverted to effect repairs to the _Montpelier, _and the Comstar vessel is taken by a prize crew back to Caph, along with prisoners.

August 2957: New naval Doctrine for the Caph Navy is developed in response to what is learned from the Comstar's work on the _Dante-_class hull, and debrief of Comstar POW's. A new variant on the _Skirmisher_ hull is put into production, that strips ninety percent of its weaponry in favor of expanded hangar bays for heavy ASF deployment. The _Tharkad II_ class design being developed from the recovered _SLS Invincible_ is modified to mount heavier long range capital-class weaponry in exchange for diminished hangar capacity. All future Caph-constructed military vessels are to be equipped with more point defense weaponry. New doctrine calls for _Skirmisher_-class vessels to operate in trios when away from larger vessels, one carrier variant and two conventional variants, never more than a single jump away from each other.

November 2957: After the _Montpelier_'s failure to return, Comstar orders its first fleet to move, and Precentor ROM is ordered to begin rethinking Kappa's doctrine in the OWA. He decides to shift to primarily electronic warfare tactics, and proposes hiring local hackers within the OWA rather than use Comstar-trained operatives. For the next ninety years, Comstar and Caph will both conduct digital warfare in the OWA through proxies.

January 2958: On the heels of doctrine change in the OWA, ROM Kappa changes its strategy within Canopus to attempting to bleed the CTA and CCI dry economically. Continuously escalating costs for garrison forces over the next sixty years will force CCI to run a tight ship in Canopus, but they manage to remain in the black, if barely.

May 2959: After protracted efforts by the members of the Ivo family utilizing evidence of ROM's dirtier operations, and the much higher standard of living Caph's citizens enjoy compared to any other part of human-controlled space, the captain of the _Montpelier_ is subverted. From him, they learn the size of Comstar's first fleet, as well as the patrol patterns for the Sol system as he last new them to be. Over the next eighty years, this information will be used to successfully send hundreds of ballistic probes disguised as asteroids through the Sol system, though the Comstar fleet will have moved from Luyten 68-28 by the time Caph scouts reconnoiter the system.

September 2960: CSS _Star Metal_ completes tour in Taurian Concordat and goes on short furlough.

January 2962: CSS _Boom Town_ and CSS _Star Metal_ deploy together to Neuva Castille/Umayyad Caliphate, collectively escorted by four _Skirmisher-_class Frigates. The war between the two powers is very swiftly ended. Disgusted with the brutal regime in control of Neuva Castille, the captain of the _Boom Town_ orders an invasion, and the Principe class of Castille is crushed. As a matter of simplicity, control of the Castillan planets is handed over to the Umayyad's, with implicit warnings that it will be re-taken should the the Umayyad's similarly abuse power. Despite the combined states small size, the task-force's deployment is long, as the states had been at war for 130 years, and considerable rebuilding is needed.

July 2963: CSS _Calvin Joliet_ completes refit operations on _Worker Bee_ drone jumpships, then proceeds to short-term mission in the deep periphery in Jarnfolk.

April 2964: Colonization initiative begins to relieve Caph's developing population density issues, settlements beginning in worlds formerly controlled by Circinus.

August 2965: Facing policing action from the Caph Navy, the Oberon confederation formally ceases and desists from remaining pirating operations. Two _Skirmisher_ frigates on local patrol 'encourage' the Periphery state to remain honest over the next decade.

January 2966: 'Caffeine Trade Authority' sends message to all successor states, 'politely' asking them to finish up with their war, as the CTA has completed trade missions to every 'other' Periphery state. The attempt to quell the Third Succession War backfires, as warfare intensifies. Caph turns its attention, instead, to augmenting its mercantile network, attempting to track Comstar Explorator Jumpships, and infiltrating Terra.

October 2975: The CTA initiates a multi-layered blind of dummy corporations, which ultimately buys out 'Starbucks,' to both begin distributing Coffee from Caph, and spread an intelligence network through the Inner Sphere.

May 2985: Nicholas Gustafson attempts a coup on Caph, based upon his belief that Caph should use its now-sizeable navy to begin conquest of the Inner Sphere. He is thwarted when the Ivo family Brass Knuckles brain him.

Indeterminate date 3005: The Wolf's Dragoons enter the Inner Sphere, and enter the employ of House Davion. Caph Intelligence is immediately drawn to take note of their unusual Battlemechs, and their use of space-based manufacturing with the _Hephaestus_ modular/mobile space station.

June 3010: CTA attempts, and fails, to hire the Wolf's Dragoons, the mercenary unit instead moving on to the Capellan Confederation. Suspecting motives other than purely monetary in the Wolf's decision, Caph Intelligence begin investigating the Wolf's Dragoons, and discover the existence of the Dragoon's own nascent intelligence network.

July 3015: The CTA successfully hires the Wolf's Dragoons by making a public, and obscenely generous, bid for their services, forcing them to either accept the contract, or make it clear that they had ulterior motives. The Dragoons take a two year contract with the CTA to protect their colonies around Circinus. An unusual rivalry begins between Caph Intelligence and Wolf Intelligence, both factions attempting to uncover each others secrets without resorting to lethal or permanently destructive means.

Indeterminate date 3015: Marik Civil War begins.

August 3017: Wolf's Dragoons move on to contract with the Lyran Alliance, save for Natasha Kerensky's Wolf Spiders, which contract with House Marik and take part in the civil war.

Indeterminate date 3018: Marik Civil War ends. By the time the war is over, Steiner and Liao forces have taken substantial amounts of territory from the Free Worlds League.

January 3020: Archon Katrina Steiner issues a peace proposal to the Successor States; Hanse Davion is the only other Successor Lord to respond. Duke Gustafson decides to send an emissary to chat with Katrina as well

((()))

August 9th, 3020

Mount Wotan, Tharkad.

Green conference room, Asgard Military Command Complex

"What have you got for me, Nondi?" Katrina Steiner, Archon of the Lyran Commonwealth asked, eyeing her younger sister curiously, "You're not just dragging me out here for another 'discussion' about Hanse Davion's trustworthiness, are you?"

"No," Nondi said, though she _did_ scowl at the Davion's name, "I received a message that I thought you'd prefer be delivered _personally_."

Katrina raised and eyebrow, mixing curiosity with surprise in her expression and body language as she nodded for the Hauptmann-General to continue.

"This morning," Nondi said, pulling a plain white envelope out of one of her uniform pockets, "I found this in my mail pile."

She placed the envelope onto the conference table between them, where it proceeded to unfold itself, then configure itself into an approximation of a laptop computer, facing the Archon. After a half second, its 'screen' did, in fact, become a screen, displaying what appeared to be a man directly out of history.

"Hello Archon Steiner," The man said, smiling warmly, "I'm Cameron Ivo. How are you today?"

"Intrigued," Katrina said, staring at the man flatly, "You look rather remarkably like a man who would have to be nearly one hundred and fifty years old this year."

"I'm named for my father," Cameron said, smiling rather unnervingly like a shark, "Something of a tradition in my family. That aside, Archon Steiner, we've heard word back home that you're attempting to arrange a peace accord amongst the successor states. I don't suppose we'd be welcome to join in on the talks?"

Katrina's left eyebrow raised slightly in surprise.

"It was under the impression that the Caffeine Trade Authority had given up on breaking into Inner Sphere markets," Katrina said, "It's been more than fifty years since any of the Successor States have had direct contact with the CTA or your factory ships."

"Yes," Cameron said, "And we're rather relieved that someone appears to _finally_ be making an effort at ending this damn war. One hundred and fifty years is a _bit _much. Some of our people think we should just give up on the lot of you."

"I can see how that would be frustrating," Katrina said after a moment's reflection, "I suppose others, such as yourself, take my invitation to the other Successor Lords as an example of 'any opportunity is better than no opportunity'?"

"Something like that," Cameron said, and that _grin_ was back.

Katrina had thought it odd that historians would make particular note of a man's _smile_, but now that she'd seen it herself, or, more likely, the descendant of that smile, she rather understood.

"Is there a particular reason you have arranged such _unconventional_ means of communication?" Katrina asked.

"Oh, that's rather simple," Cameron said, "If Comstar heard you were in serious diplomatic communication with us, they would at least threaten you with Interdiction, and possibly actually do so."

"That seems a bit drastic on their part," Katrina said.

"Comstar," Cameron said, his expression and tone _deadly_ serious, "Will go to _any _length to maintain their monopoly on HPG technology. Did LIC ever find out what _really_ happened in the Taurian Concordat one hundred years ago?"

"Possibly," Katrina said, "That depends on whether or not Protector Calderon really did kick out Comstar on the basis that the Concordat had never wished to be part of the Star League in the first place, and once CCI offered their own services, the Taurians no longer _needed_ Comstar."

"It had more to do with Comstar sending ROM agents to attack our facilities when we refused to hand them over," Cameron said, "Comstar will go to _any_ length. Over the last fifty years we've been playing cat and mouse with the Explorator Corps to keep our homeworld concealed. That aside, however, I have an offer from the CTA for the Lyran Commonwealth in general, and you in particular."

Katrina nodded her head for him to continue.

"You've taken the initiative," Cameron said, "We like that. If your initiative bears fruit, and the war ends, the CTA will give the Lyran Commonwealth Most Favored Nation trade status."

Katrina's eyes widened at that, and she noticed that Nondi had stiffened in her seat.

"What in all would that entail?" She asked cautiously.

"Mostly," Ivo said, "That rather than simply send in a _Joliet_ once peace breaks out, we'll be front-loading dropships full of Industrial equipment to ship in to the Commonwealth."

"As I recall," Katrina said cautiously, "Your people favor the use of _Mammoth_-class Dropships for merchant freight. How many dropships are we talking about?"

"At least two hundred in the first wave," Ivo said, "Though I should warn you, we _own_ the Concordat's mining and metal processing industries. Lyrans are sharper merchants, so I doubt we could buy out both in the Commonwealth, but we'd probably still end up controlling most of your mining industry."

Katrina said nothing, carefully maintaining a neutral expression as she considered what was being offered to her nation. The Lyran Commonwealth was already the most prosperous of the Successor States; that much shipping would bring in more than five _million_ tons of heavy industrial equipment. Katrina had seen the economic reports on the various Periphery states since the factory-ships from Caffeine had set about renovating their economies, industrial efficiency increased anywhere from fifty to three hundred percent in the various states, and that was only amongst the powers that LIC knew they'd visited. Between the four industrial ships, there was more than a century of unaccounted time spent outside of known regions of the Periphery.

Of course, there was also the clear implication that if the Third Succession War finally ended, the industrial ships would be spending time in the _other_ Successor States as well, but MFN status would certainly kick things off to a beneficial start, and if her talks with Hanse Davion went well…

"You said the CTA has four industrial ships," Katrina said, "If peace breaks out, where will they be going _first_?"

"Considering we've already completed tours in every periphery power that's agreed to host a visit from us," Ivo said, smiling again, "Every Successor State except for the Draconis Combine."

"Why?" Katrina asked sharply.

"The Combine pissed us off," Cameron said, "And we also figure they're the most likely to attempt to seize our ships, seeing how little respect they generally have for those not of the warrior caste."

"I see," Katrina said, "So, in essence, you are offering MFN status to my nation if peace stems from my efforts, why?"

"Good business practice," Cameron said, shrugging, "Reward behavior that benefits you. Also good psychology and ally-building; you'd be trying for peace anyways, but this way, you'll be subconsciously aware that you're not alone in legitimately desiring peace, and will feel more direct, immediate benefits if it works out. It'll also help maintain a balance of power in the IS, as the only reason the Commonwealth isn't currently the weakest power in the Sphere militarily, is the Free Worlds League hasn't finished recovering from its civil war five years ago."

"So this is also political engineering," Katrina said.

"Yes," Cameron said, and that _grin_ was back again, "And I'll make no bones about it. We want peace in the IS, and open markets for trade. If we want to take control of something, we'll do it with economics, rather than military power. It's more challenging, less wasteful, and less morally reprehensible."

Silence reigned in the conference room for a long moment before Katrina spoke again.

"What is it you want from me right now?" She asked.

"Nothing," Cameron said, grinning, "This is purely For Your Information. If you want to contact me, just hang on to the paper terminal, and use it to give me a ring. Ta-ta, Archon Steiner."

Katrina stared at the suddenly paper-white 'screen' for quite some time. It was an interesting experience, being dismissed, something that had not happened to her since she had taken the throne.

"That was different," Nondi eventually said.

"Yes," Katrina said, "It was."

Silence.

"What will you do?" Nondi asked.

"Keep up the talks with Hanse," Katrina said, "And maybe see if I can get Marik to come back to the table. Takashi won't treat with a woman, and I don't trust Maximillian. If I can get things started though, the others may back off just to find a balance of power."

"You know that's probably exactly what he wants," Nondi said.

"Yes," Katrina said, "But I _do_ genuinely want peace. It's not like it'll really hurt anything for me to put a bit more effort into it, even if I don't see anyone except for Davion playing along."

((()))

August 9th, 3020

Near Avalon City, New Avalon

Campus of New Avalon Institute of Science

"Hanse Davion!" A cheery voice suddenly called out.

Hanse, who had been in the middle of a stroll around the NAIS grounds, suddenly jerked to a stop, and his security detail fanned out, looking for the speaker.

"Would you happen to have time for a chat?" The voice said, coming from directly in front of Hanse.

"A chat?" Hanse said cautiously, wondering if a student was playing a prank with directional sound equipment; a glance at his chronometer showed he had no immediately pressing engagements, "I suppose."

"Jolly good," The voice said, and the air in front of Hanse… shimmered, revealing a man Hanse immediately recognized from his studies of history, clad in a suit made of unfamiliar material.

"You look a great deal like Cameron Ivo," Hanse said.

"Funny," The man said, with a _smile_ that somehow managed to be unnerving, even though it was completely non-threatening, "I was just chatting with Archon Steiner, and she said the same thing. I did inherit my name from my father, something of a family tradition, but I got my flare for the dramatic from my mother."

The man, probably Cameron Ivo the fifth or so in Hanse's reckoning, seemed entirely unconcerned about the assorted small arms trained upon his person by Hanse's bodyguards.

Hanse found himself rather impressed and amused, on the whole.

"What is it you wished to talk about?" He asked with a faint smile.

"Archon Steiner's peace initiative," Ivo said, "We've offered the Lyran Commonwealth Most Favored Nation status if she manages to end the Third Succession War. Since you're the only one who seems to be taking her seriously, we figured we would offer you a little something as well."

"It would have to be quite something," Davion said, "To compare to MFN status."

"Indeed," Ivo said, smirking slightly "How does helping you build a new shipyard capable of producing Jumpships sound?"

"_Very_ interesting," Davion said, allowing himself to grin like a fox.

Cameron returned the grin; to a man, the Prince's bodyguards found the pair of grins to be somehow unsettling.

((()))

Muphrid System

February 5th 3021.

Apex Jump Point.

Lyran Dropship _Bifrost_.

"On August 9th," Hanse Davion said, deadly serious, as he stared Katrina Steiner directly in the eye.

"Yes," The Archon said, every bit as serious as the somewhat younger First Prince.

"He told me," Hanse said, "That he had _just_ 'had a chat' with you. I rather suspect that if we worked out the time differences, we would find that Ivo had, indeed been speaking with you hours, if not minutes, before he appeared in front of me."

"This couldn't be anything but deliberate," Katrina said softly, "And it's no coincidence that he spoke with me from halfway across the Inner Sphere, while warning me about Comstar."

"No," Hanse said, leaning back in his zero-g seat, "No it wouldn't be. Not for someone from that family."

He simply sat back and thought for a while, watching while Melissa Steiner slept peacefully in her mother's lap, trying to put down the vaguely disturbed feeling he had whenever he looked at the nine year old he was arranging to marry when she became an adult. Then something unsettling occurred to him.

"You know," Hanse said, "He didn't deny _being _the same Cameron Ivo that showed up in the Taurian Concordat a hundred years ago, he simply said that he received his name from his father."

"…Meaning?" Katrina asked.

"I'm not the most familiar with the biology involved in human aging," Hanse said, "But considering the other advances we _know_ the people of Caffeine possess, would it really be surprising if they'd found a way to retard aging?"

"Not really," Katrina said, her voice somewhat distant as she walked down memory lane, "In truth, mankind _hasn't_ seen much advancement in medical technology since… Well, before we began leaving Terra in force. A few lesser strains aside, no one has cured cancer, cybernetics are still a crapshoot, we haven't developed regenerative therapies… we haven't really done much at all."

"If he _is_ the same Cameron Ivo that showed up in the Periphery a hundred years ago," Hanse said, "He hasn't lied to us about it, either, so long as his father was, in fact, also named Cameron. We could just ask him directly about it."

"Considering how much Ivo seems to like playing mister mysterious," Katrina said, idly stroking her somnolescent daughter's hair, "I doubt he'd be offended if we over-estimated him."

"Probably not," Hanse agreed, "I wish we had more control over whether or not peace breaks out. Ironically, it would be the strongest move towards making someone First Lord since the twenty-eighth century."

"Which apparently, is exactly what Ivo and the CTA want," Katrina said, "_That _much, I think he was being honest about."

"It's certainly entirely consistent with everything we know about their actions so far," Hanse said, shrugging, "If they've got an ulterior motive, they're in it for the _very_ long game."

"If they have technology that substantially extends the span of a human's life," Katrina pointed out, "It may not seem like that long a game to them."

"True," Hanse said, "Ultimately, we just don't have enough information. I think he was trying to inspire curiosity."

"If he's as old as we think," Katrina said, "He's probably got a lot of experience at getting what he wants."

"That _would_ explain why it was so effective," Hanse said, smiling wryly, "I'm pretty confident in my abilities, but I'm not sure how I'd feel about matching wits with a centenarian who's not dealing with the deleterious effects of aging."

Katrina bit out a sharp laugh, then stopped abruptly as Melissa shifted in her lap.

"Now _that_," She said, "Is a _truly_ terrifying thought. Imagine having to deal with Takashi Kurita _forever_."

"Ugh," Hanse said, "Downsides to immortality too, I guess. We'll have to ask Cameron about it."

"Agreed," Katrina said, then lapsed into silence as she focused her attention on her daughter.

Hanse did likewise.

((()))

June 6th, 3021

Tharkad City, Tharkad.

Archon's personal quarters, Archon's Palace.

"So tell me, Mister Ivo," Katrina asked, "Just how old are you?"

"One hundred and fifty-four, as of March," Cameron said, giving Katrina _the grin_ again, "But I don't feel a day over twenty-five."

Katrina wasn't sure how to respond to that, though in retrospect, she _should_ have expected such a direct response.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to share that technology with the rest of humanity, would you?" Katrina eventually said.

"Why yes," Cameron said affably, "We would. In fact, from what I gather, George Calderon is still feeling quite vigorous for being almost as old as I am. Not to mention every other inhabitant of a Periphery state who can reasonably afford the treatment, with or without loans."

"It seems rather hard to believe that every intelligence agency in the Inner Sphere missed out on something like this," Katrina said pointedly.

"They didn't," Cameron said, shrugging nonchalantly, "We've controlled every HPG in the Periphery for almost a hundred years now though. We haven't been editing the mail that goes through Comstar, but they've been keeping a fair bit of information out of your hands themselves. You have _no idea_ how badly they want to keep the Successor States from engaging in open trade with us. If CCI goes into business in the Inner Sphere, Comstar will collapse. They simply can't compete, because unlike the Blakists, CCI isn't trying to fund a religious order, a Sphere-wide intelligence and espionage agency, a navy, fifty regiments of Battlemechs, twenty regiments of armor-"

"Stop," Katrina barked, her voice the voice of _command_ only developed by those accustomed to absolute authority, "_Fifty Regiments_ of Battlemechs?"

"Oh," Cameron said, now deadly serious himself, "Not just any Battlemechs; Star League-era Battlemechs. The Com Guards have a lot more teeth than Comstar would want you to realize."

Katrina quietly, carefully, considered Cameron's proof. Ivo was content to sit and wait for her to think; he tended to take the long view of things, by and large.

"Do you have any proof of this?" Katrina eventually asked.

"Yes," Cameron said firmly, "As a matter of fact, we have a great _deal_ of proof. The real question is, do you want to deal with the consequences of finding that I am telling the truth?"

"Of course," Katrina snapped, "Better a deadly truth than a pleasant lie."

"That," Ivo said, giving _the smile_ again, "Is exactly what I hoped you would say. You'll be receiving a care package from Caffeine shortly."

((()))

June 7th, 3021

Tharkad City, Tharkad.

Archon's personal quarters, Archon's Palace.

Katrina Steiner discovered the next day, that Ivo had not used the term 'care package' lightly, as a modest sized box arrived at the palace, filled with home-made cookies, brownies, Pannukaku for some inane reason, far too much of Melissa's favorite candy (sugared fruit-gummies), and a digital device with eight terrabytes of intelligence on Comstar's nefarious activities since 2900.

Katrina wasn't sure if she should laugh, or roll her eyes; so she did both, then ate one of the brownies.

It was _delicious. _

Katrina rolled her eyes, then picked up the note that had come with the package.

_My wife baked the cookies, my great-great-great-great granddaughter the brownies, and I bought the candy. I wasn't sure what her favorite brand was, so I got a little bit of everything. I wasn't sure what kind of evidence you wanted, so I put in a little bit of everything on that too. When you pass it on to Hanse, could you tell him that if he were just a _little_ less cunning and mysterious, I would be able to tell what to get him for Christmas?_

_-Cameron Ivo Jr._

"Is that man _compelled_ to try and insert humor into _every_ situation?" Katrina asked nobody in particular.

"_I _think he's funny," Melissa said decisively, prying open a packet of candies, "Security did clear this stuff, right?"

"Yes," Katrina said absently, "What I want to know, is how he got it into the palace mail without anybody noticing."

"Well," Melissa said around a mouthful of sugar, "You could ask him."

Katrina opened her mouth to say that you just did _not_ ask someone how their intelligence agency pulled its tricks, except considering the character of Ivo, he might be willing to just tell her directly.

"I suppose I could," Katrina said, then ate another brownie, "But not until I'm finished with these brownies."

((()))

Spring to fall, 3025: The Third Succession War finally dies out. The Caph Trade Authority requests a formal cessation of hostilities announcement from the various House Lords. Liao, Marik, and Kurita are hesitant to do so, but after Davion and Steiner both agree, and the CTA immediately sends a factory ship to each state, they swiftly comply. Takashi Kurita is the slowest to consent, giving the CTA a pretext for not sending a factory ship to the Draconis Combine 'yet.' Maximillian Liao also implements Operation Doppleganger, which both fails, and is instrumental in driving Hanse Davion to begin preparing for the Fourth Succession War.


	5. Chapter 4

AN1: Whoops, forgot yesterday was Saturday. My bad!

Chapter 4: Silver Eagle.

(Or, Bird riding a Bird gets rescued by Birds.)

AN: I wrote this with my copy of 'En Garde' right next to me (for those of you not familiar, it is first of the trilogy that covers the events leading up to and including the Fourth Succession War, as well as the canon Silver Eagle incident), and directly decided where I would be monkeying with things. I really wanted to involve Caph with the Silver Eagle incident, but at first couldn't find any justification for it, since nowhere in the chain of events timeline does anyone throw off a message that I could reasonably see getting to Caph. Then I realized, hey hey, Styx is a single jump from Caph, which was more than reason enough for Caph to know what was going on considering their security concerns. I originally picked Caph as my source world more or less at random (and because it had _dinosaurs_), but again and again it has proven to be pretty much perfect for my story needs. Is that awesome or what?

Also, some characters will only show up in passing; they're most likely characters from the book that I mention because they're there, but aren't relevant to my overall plot work. For those not familiar, Melissa Steiner is seventeen years old, and has never really been exposed to death before, and in the canon, she watched Patrick Kell die. Not much detail of how she deals with that is handled, and since she's such a crucial character, I decided to pay it a lot more attention. Those more familiar with canon should see how just about everything ties in.

((()))

Spring to fall, 3025: The Third Succession War finally dies out. The Caph Trade Authority requests a formal cessation of hostilities announcement from the various House Lords. Liao, Marik, and Kurita are hesitant to do so, but after Davion and Steiner both agree, and the CTA immediately sends a factory ship to each state, they swiftly comply. Takashi Kurita is the slowest to consent, giving the CTA a pretext for not sending a factory ship to the Draconis Combine 'yet.' Maximillian Liao also implements Operation Doppleganger, which both fails, and is instrumental in driving Hanse Davion to begin preparing for the Fourth Succession War.

May 3027: The Silver Eagle Incident.

((()))

May 25th, 3027

Caph, Caph System

Duke's Palace.

"Sir?" Commodore Jordan Irons, the current head of Caph Military Intelligence said as he poked his head into the Duke's office, "You should have a look at this."

"Jordan?" Duke Gustafson said, looking up from whatever latest bureaucratic detail he had been handling, "What is it?"

"There's been some activity in the Styx system," Irons said, entering the office and laying a data pad on the Duke's desk, "Are you familiar with the Heimdall base there?"

"Um," The Duke said, picking up the pad to look over the data on the system and the recent occurrences therein, "Group of self-appointed loyalists, opposed to LOKI's excesses, I remember they've a base in the system, but not much more."

"There really isn't much more to it," Irons said, shrugging, "Mostly they transhipped refugees from Drac raids during the succession wars, apparently they took up hijacking though, with a dropship called the _Silver Eagle_. That's not the interesting part though. Look at the top of page five."

The Duke nodded, and continued to scroll down; then his eyes widened.

"_Melissa Steiner?_" He breathed, "What the _hell_ is she doing off of Tharkad? I thought intelligence still had her occupied in the Archon's Palace!"

"So did I," Irons said gravely, "We've got no idea _why_ she's in Combine Space, or within a single jump of Caph, for that matter, but apparently the Kuritans have realized she's there."

"ISF," Gustafson said as he continued to page down through the document, "And the Genyosha? Under _Yorinaga Kurita? _Why not just send a whole Regiment?"

"Probably response time availability, sir," Irons said, "The question is, do we want to step in on this?"

"Of course we do!" Gustafson growled, looking up to glare at Irons, "There's no way in _hell_ I'm letting someone like Takashi Kurita get his hands on Melissa Steiner, or _any_ attractive young woman he sees as an enemy, for that matter."

"Aye, sir," Irons said, "I couldn't agree more."

"Brenda," Gustafson said, activating the intercom on his desk, "Get me a direct line with the officer on watch for the Caph Fleet ASAP."

"Yes boss?" Responded his secretary.

"Right," The Duke said, turning his attention back to Irons, "So how good is our current Intelligence on Styx?"

"Same as any inhabited system a single jump from Caph," Irons said, "If anybody so much as vents their sewage tanks while in space, we'll know when, where, how much, and if anybody in the crew has been passing kidney stones."

"So," Gustafson said, "Since this Heimdall base is asteroid-based, we should have detailed live information, yes?"

"Yes sir," Iron said, nodding, "As a matter of fact, we've got an operative on our payroll in the base. That's how we know the Archon-Designate is there."

"Good," Gustafson began, but was cut off by his secretary.

"Boss," Brenda said, "I've got Captain Zhiang on the horn for you."

"Put him through," Gustafson said.

"Yes boss," Brenda said, and a moment later, the holo-display built into the Duke's desk lit up with the serious features of Captain Gregory Zhiang, CO of the CSS _Big Stick_, one of the two _Jotun_ battlecruisers the Caph Navy fielded.

"Milord," Zhiang said, "You called for me?"

"Indeed," Gustafson said, "It seems that there's a Damsel in Distress a mere jump away, and it's time to send some Knights in Shining Armor to save her from the Dragon. I'll have Commodore Irons here fill you in on the details, but the long and short of it, is that I want you to come down like Thor's Hammer on the Dracs who are trying to kidnap Melissa Steiner."

((()))

May 26th, 3027

Heimdall Base, Styx System

Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine

"This just keeps getting better and better," Clovis Holstein said, "We've got _another_ Jumpship arriving in system, though this one's a big sucker."

Holstein frowned, then glanced back at the others in the base's de-facto control room.

"It's _too_ big," He said, "Almost twice the size of a _Monolith_ The only people who float ships that large are the CTA."

"The CTA?" Melissa Steiner said, "What would they be doing here?"

"I'm not sure," Clovis said, frowning again, "But it looks like-_Holy Shit!_"

"What?" Andrew Redburn barked, "What happened?"

"The Drac Jumpships each sent one of their other Dropships at it," Holstein said, sounding faintly nauseous, "Overlords. It _nuked_ them."

Melissa gasped. Redburn's face slipped into a cold mask. Captain von Breunig felt decidedly faint, though he didn't show it.

"It's detached a dropship, and launched ASF's," Holstein said, "All burning for us, _hard_."

((()))

May 26th, 3027

Apex Jump Point, Styx System

Dieron Military District, Draconis Combine

"Dragoon wings are away," Commander Yukiko Thompson, the CSS _Sphinx's CAG_ said, "ETA has them reaching the base roughly two hours behind the Kell Hounds."

"Now _that_ was a surprise," Captain Guinevere Kolkhov mused, "Not many Sphere Jumpship captains with the nav data, much less the guts, to risk a pirate point these days."

"Somebody's got to play the hero," Thompson said, "Considering the force mix they've brought and their reputation, the Hounds might have pulled all of this off without our intervention anyways."

"Maybe," Kolkhov said, "But Yorinaga Kurita is unlikely to have pushovers under his own command, and there's no point in taking chances here."

"Not with scum like Takashi Kurita, anyways," Thompson said quietly.

"Aye," Kolkhov said, "Navigation! Best speed to Heimdall Base, who knows what we'll have to clean up by the time we get there?"

((()))

Heimdall Base:

"This is Colonel Patrick Kell, CO of the Kell Hounds," Kell said evenly, "Who is this?"

"We are forbidden from disclosing our unit designation or affiliation over unsecured frequencies," The man on the other end of the comm channel said, "But we've been sent to ensure that the Archon-Designate, and everyone else for that matter, is safely extracted back to allied territory. I'm sure your dropship captain has informed you of our approach."

"Thirty-six Aerospace fighters at hard burn are hard to miss," Kell said, "Especially when they're all assault weight. What guarantee do we have that you're friendly?"

"None but our word," The other man replied, "And the fact that if we _were_ here to nab Steiner for ourselves, it's not like anybody in-system could stop us."

Which, Kell knew, was quite unfortunately plentifully true. The ASF's were more than enough to shoot the _Cucamulus_ to pieces, and even if the DCMS Jumpships possessed any fighter compliment when they arrived in system, they'd most likely been destroyed when the pair of dropships they'd sent at the massive newcomer had _nuked_ them. If the Dracs had anything left that stood a chance, they would have deployed it _immediately. _

"Valid point," Kell admitted, "What do you want? And can I get a name?"

"You can call me Epona for now," The man said, "And what we need most of all right now, is information from on the ground. Who has control of the Heimdall base? Who has Steiner right now? If the Dracs do, they'll probably kill her just to keep us from getting her back."

"We've got Melissa right now," Patrick said, "But the Kuritans have taken the _Silver Eagle_ hostage, and are threatening to kill everyone on board if we don't hand her over by the end of the hour. Our plan _had_ been to buy her time to escape to the _Cucamulus_ while we try to retake the _Silver Eagle _at the end of the hour."

"Well," Epona said, "It looks like we'll be about six minutes late, and unless the Dracs somehow managed to penetrate our jamming, I doubt they know we're here. Think you can buy us six minutes."

"Six minutes?" Kell barked out with a laugh, "If you take that long, I might already have _won_."

((()))

"No Diane, no! You're not in your Rifleman, punch out!" Daniel Allard shouted, watching helplessly as the flight of missiles homed in on his lance-mate's mech.

Then promptly exploded in mid flight. Daniel blinked, then stared as a _great many_ things began exploding. Laser fire, invisible in the depressurized docking bay, slashed into the Kuritan Battlemechs, in absolutely _torrential_ quantities. The first barrage alone dropped every single _Panther_ in the opposing force, and devastated all heavier elements save for Yorinaga Kurita's _Warhammer_

Before any of the Kell Hounds, much less the Kuritan forces, had even begun to recover from the sudden, unexpected barrage, _dozens_ of Assault-weight battlemechs, all of them of unfamiliar design, stormed into the landing bay from the asteroid's surface, opening fire now with PPC's, and cutting the rest of the Kuritan forces to pieces. Save, again, for Yorinaga Kurita.

_It's _exactly_ like Mallory's World,_ Allard thought desperately to himself, trying furiously to target the heavy Battlemech. Every system on his mech continued to deny that the _Warhammer_ existed, however, causing his missiles to refuse to lock, and his laser to overshoot when its attending targeting software compensated for focusing on a target further down range.

The newcomers faired little better, their entire next salvo striking only two minor hits on the Warhammer; with thirty-six Assault Mechs unloading their entire arsenals, that was _beyond_ pitiful. Patrick Kell was no longer occupied demolishing the lighter Kuritan mechs however, and exchanged fire with the _Warhammer_ directly in the next volley. The _Warhammer_ had the advantage of being almost wholly undamaged; the _Victor_ had the advantage of being an Assault mech, and thus substantially more heavily armed and armored. Two PPC's lashed Kell's _Victor_ in exchangefor a full salvo from the _Victor's_ AC/20, SRM-4, and pair of Medium lasers.

At the end of the exchange, both machines were essentially entirely denuded of armor protecting their forward-center torso, and at two close a range to have any real hope of evading fire. Another volley of fire from the newly-arrived mechs scarred the left leg and both arms of Kurita's _Warhammer_, but failed to capitalize on the damage that Patrick Kell had already scored.

Daniel Allard's thought processes were abruptly derailed as Kell's _Victor_ suddenly did a remarkable impression of taking a crap. It took him a moment to realize that Patrick had manually dumped the Battlemech's ammunition stores, leaving him only the rounds already being cycled into his autocannon and SRM launcher. _Clever_, Allard thought, _It's not like anything beyond this next salvo will matter anyways, considering Yorinaga is the only Kuritan still standing_.

Once both mech's weapons had finished cycling, it became obvious that Kurita did not agree. Kell faced the Kuritan straight on, firing directly at his foe; the Kuritan shifted stance at the last moment, angling his mech to take the salvo on his mech's left flank and arm, stripping the limb of most of its armor, and inflicting some internal, but apparently non-critical damage, to the mech's torso. The _Warhammer's_ return salvo tore the _Victor_ to shreds, cracking the fusion reactor's shielding and sending it into an explosive overload with its PPC's, slashing laser fire across the shoulders and cockpit canopy, and cratering its right arm with a swarm of SRM's. Patrick Kell had already begun ejecting, however, before Yorinaga even opened fire.

This had the upside of throwing him completely free of his Battlemech's explosive demise. It had the downside of leaving him _personally_ in the direct line of fire of one of the _Warhammer_'s lasers, which sliced both of his legs off just below the knees as his jumpset rocketed free from the doomed mech. Unfortunately for his pain receptors, the anti-mech laser seared the wounds with blistering heat; fortunately for his survival, it cauterized the wounds _shut_ and melted his jumpsuit onto what was left of his legs, forming an improptu vacuum seal.

For a long moment, most all that the newcomers could see was the intense fireball that marked the funeral pyre of Patrick Kell's mech, while the Hounds themselves desperately tracked Patrick Kell's jumpseat, which Yorinaga Kurita quietly watched himself.

Then the fireball cleared, dying abruptly as it was deprived of combustible material in the depressurized landing bay, and the three dozen assault mechs arrayed across the landing bay's entrance had a clear line of fire to Yorinaga Kurita's mech once more. This time, they did not independently target, or even really target at all; instead C3 computer command links designated laser and PPC fire (Allard absently noted the complete lack of non-energy armaments on their mechs) into lanes, which criss-crossed the space that Kurita's Warhammer was in and around. It was a grossly inaccurate method of fire, 70% of all shots missing. With the even distribution of fire, that was still the cumulative fire of ten Assault-class Battlemechs hammering down on the already-damaged Warhammer.

Unlike Patrick Kell, Yorinaga Kurita had not expected the volley of fire, and had no time to eject. He died instantaneously, as a large laser and two PPC's converged on his cockpit, and obliterated him utterly.

((()))

May 28th, 3027

Near Heimdall Base, Styx System

CSS _Sphinx_, _Skirmisher_-class Frigate.

Melissa Steiner sat, alone and broken-hearted, in the small cabin that had been set aside for her. It wasn't as worn as her cabin aboard the _Silver Eagle_ had been, but it was a far, _far_ cry from the lap of luxury that the Archon's Palace represented. It was, as she had been informed, simply one of a handful of guest quarters that the _Sphinx_ had, literally as identical as was physically possible to the other six such cabins on board the CTA vessel. Herself, Patrick Kell, Andrew Redburn, and a mixed handful of personnel from the _Silver Eagle_ and the Kell Hounds who had volunteered to serve as her guard occupied the cabins. Redburn and Kell each had their own cabin, since they were injured, but the others had doubled up. Technically, Salome Ward shared a cabin with Melissa, but the woman had yet to so much as enter it, and Melissa was glad for the privacy.

Patrick would survive, but one of the other Kell Hounds had died, and _dozens_ of men had died fighting the ISF strike team in the infantry action that had run through the base.

And she had seen every single body herself.

And despite Clovis Holstein's words during the attack itself, she could not help but feel that the deaths were all, _somehow_, her fault. Thirty-nine men and women, mostly men, who would never again see, or be seen by their families, six more who would likely be crippled for life, and Patrick Kell, who had _lost his legs_.

Melissa didn't know how to handle it. She'd hardly slept for the last two days, trying to figure out, to _understand_ how to respond, what to _do_. And she couldn't come up with anything. Her mother had spoken, to some degree, of how people would one day die for her, as Archon, but it was not something she had discussed in any great length, as that was expected to be decades yet down the line.

Fortunately for her, someone chose to interrupt her thoughts.

The door chime sounded, and Melissa started slightly at the sound. She considered, for a moment, not responding, but couldn't find it in herself to be that rude just then. Standing, she crossed the short distance to the door, and keyed it open.

Then, she looked up. And up. And _up._

"Hello," The _enormous_ man standing on the other side of the doorway said, "I'm Isaiah Ivo, I was one of the pilots who helped storm the hangar."

"Melissa Steiner," Melissa said quietly, trying to think what to add to her introduction, before just deciding on nothing.

"I know," Ivo said gently, "I figured you might want someone to talk to about everything that's happened, someone who doesn't care too much about your lineage or titles."

"I would like that," Melissa said softly, retreating into the cabin and gesturing for him to follow her in.

"I understand you're aware that those of us with the CTA aren't always the age we appear," Isaiah said as he followed her in, then sat on the floor as she sat on the bunk, deliberately placing himself at a lower height than her despite his size, "Just to avoid any confusion, I'm older than your fiance, and I think you've had correspondence from my great-uncle, Cameron?"

"Yes," Melissa said, smiling faintly, "He sends me candy every year on my birthday. His notes say that no one's ever too old for candy."

"Claims that his mother taught him that," Isaiah said, slowly reaching out with one of his massive arms to take one of her hands gently in his, carefully looking her in the eye, "He also says it was his mother that taught him how to deal with people dying to protect, when his father died."

Tears sprang to Melissa's eyes, and she instinctively gripped Isaiah's hand tightly.

"What did she teach him?" She asked, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"A lot of things," Isaiah said softly, bringing up his other hand to cover hers, "Many of which have been passed down through the Ivo family to the rest of us. One of the first things she taught him about dealing with someone else choosing to put their life on the line, or die, for something or someone, is that it's their own choice, and that you can't take that choice away from someone without ruining them."

"But how do you deal with them actually _dying_?" Melissa whispered, carefully-trained composure on the verge of cracking.

"Mostly by crying," Isaiah said sadly, "And grieving in other ways. Whether or not it was for a good cause, whether it was because of something they chose to do or not, someone is still dead, and death is the greatest tragedy of them all."

There was some water forming in Isaiah's eyes too as he spoke.

"For people as long-lived as ours have become, it's _especially_ sad to lose someone, considering that as best we know, you could otherwise literally live forever with them."

Melissa nodded, tears now running freely down her face.

"Don't _ever_ be ashamed to grieve for those lost," Isaiah said with a quiet intensity that burrowed into Melissa, "There will come times when you are older, and have responsibilities, that you have to _delay_ grieving, so that you can still protect those who have _not_ been lost, but in times like now, there is _nothing_ wrong with grieving."

Isaiah abruptly found himself weighted down by an armload of shivering, sobbing Archon-Designate, as she collapsed into the arms of the first person who had said it was _okay_ to have a broken heart since this whole mess had begun. Isaiah simply engulfed her in a massive hug, and gently rocked her as she cried her broken heart out.

((()))

"I thought you were bringing Aerospace Fighters," Patrick Kell said wryly as he poked at the stub of his right leg, still disconcerted by the total numbness of the severed limb.

"Yes, you did," 'Epona,' actually Major Swifthorse said with a wry grin, "But I never actually said we were, did I?"

"I don't suppose you did," Kell said, "Though my memory of our conversation is somewhat overshadowed by what came afterwards. How did you get that many Assault Mechs to move so fast anyways?"

"You'd be amazed what you can do with disposable equipment if you're willing to eat the cost," Swifthorse said with a smile, "And the CTA was pretty sure that winning the favor, again, of two of the largest realms in the Sphere was worth a million or few C-bills."

"And using nuclear weapons," Kell said neutrally.

"And that," Swifthorse said with a nod, "Though we're pretty sure we're going to get away with that."

"Oh?" Kell said, looking up from his severed legs, "How do you figure that?"

"Well, lack of witnesses, really," Swifthorse said with a shrug, "We captured the DCMS Jumpships, Styx's in-system sensors aren't worth shit, and I highly doubt the Hounds, the Archon, the First Prince, or the Holsteins are going to complain about it."

"And the Drac mech-jocks you captured?" Kell asked.

"They'll be in POW camps for the forseeable future," Swifthorse said, his countenance and tone becoming markedly more cold, "They threatened to void a _fully loaded_ civilian passenger liner to try and blackmail a seventeen year old young woman to surrender herself to Takashi Kurita. Unless something _very_ unusual turns up at their trial, the officers will be executed for war crimes, and the enlisted men held in POW camps until such time as we see fit to reveal their existence to the Draconis Combine. Which will most likely not happen while Takashi Kurita is Coordinator."

"That's very... _Stern_," Kell said slowly.

"It's bad enough what they threatened to do to the _Silver Eagle_," Swifthorse said harshly, "The fact that there isn't even a formal state of war between the Draconis Combine and the Lyran Commonwealth just makes it worse. That they moved to assault the _Sphinx_ with no just cause when the CTA has permission to move within the Combine, _literally_ could be taken as a declaration of war."

"I see your point," Kell said gravely, "Even if I'm not used to such extreme measures."

"You're a mercenary, albeit one of the more famously honorable ones, rather than an officer sworn to uphold a specific set of laws and ideals. CTA regular military are more used to dealing with things like being the enforcers of laws involving war crimes. You wouldn't believe some of the shit people get up to in the deep periphery."

"Fair enough," Kell said, studying Swifthorse carefully as he posed his next question, "So what happens to the Kell Hounds from here?"

"Well," Swifthorse said, "We like you lots' Moxie. Enough that we're willing to either escort you to one-jump from a FedSuns inhabited world, ride together all the way to New Avalon, or you could sign up with us for your next contract. We'll even throw in a new set of legs for you as a signing bonus. And an arm for that other guy, I forget his name, if we can't save it."

Patrick went very still.

"You can _do_ that?" He said warily.

"It'd take a couple years to grow all the way back," Swifthorse said with a shrug, "But the principles were developed in the 21st century, the technology to implement it just didn't exist until the very end of the Star League. And again in the last forty years or so for us."

"I'll take that under consideration," Kell eventually said.

"Good," Swifthorse said, standing and moving to clap Kell on the knee, before remembering that that probably be a bad idea just then, and withdrew his hand, "I'll be by to see you again tomorrow, just use the comm by your bed if you make up your mind before then."

Patrick nodded as Swifthorse left.

((()))

Eventually, Melissa's cried herself out, and as often happens in such cases, she fell asleep. Isaiah gently lay her back in her bunk, and pulled out his personal data pad to do a bit of reading while he waited for her to wake. It didn't take long, only a half hour, as she was working off emotional exhaustion more than the physical, and he would have been willing to wait _hours_ in order to speak with her further before pent-up emotions clogged her thoughts again.

As aware as _any_ member of the Ivo family (growing up amongst a clan of pranksters, headed by the greatest prankster of them all, had _consequences), _Isaiah noticed the Archon-Designate rousing well before she actually came to full consciousness, but continued reading until the girl had fully woken, taken in her surroundings, and addressed him, allowing her to not feel over-scrutinized.

"Ah, Isaiah," She said cautiously, her tone of voice naturally gentle, but lacking the broken softness it had held before, "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you."

"No need to apologize," He said, marking his page, then stowing his data pad before meeting Melissa's eyes and smiling at her, "I've seven sisters and brothers, both younger and older, and I've done the same for almost all of them. Being the biggest, I often end up being the shoulder to cry on."

Melissa smiled softly in return, then hesitated for a moment, obviously trying to decide where to take the conversation next, before speaking.

"What's it like?" She asked softly, "Having a family that big?"

"Exciting," Isaiah said, his smile broadening into a grin, "The entire Ivo clan, more or less, are pranksters by both nature and nurture, and we've developed a mentality for going over the top, one way or another. Quantity, quality, scale, or a combination thereof. One daughter of clan Ivo, youngest child of her family, overdid her 'goodbye' prank when she went off to college, and leveled the entire house."

"How on earth did she _do_ that?" Melissa asked with wide eyes.

"Sonics," Isaiah said, "She hand-built four high-powered resonance devices that she intended to use to give the house a 'buzz,' just simulate a minor tremor, really. What she didn't count on was hitting a resonant frequency for two of the concrete foundation blocks, and that one of her older brothers had been storing the hydrocarbon fuel for his antique ICE tricycle in the attic. The primary support members on that side of the house sank about a foot, which cause some of the fuel cannisters to tip, and soak the entire attic in highly-combustible liquid. Nobody's quite sure what caused the spark, but when the parents got back from some alone time after dropping their daughter off, the place was pretty much ash and melted metal."

"That's... unfortunate?" Melissa said, not entirely sure what to say.

"Yeah," Isaiah said, smirking, "She almost had to drop out of college to help pay for the damages, until she realized she could claim the 'most over the top prank' trophy, and sell the silver to cover the costs. And her tuition until she got onto a full-ride scholarship, which was one whole semester."

"She must have been very studious," Melissa said, feeling a little less uncertain of her place in conversation now.

"You might think so," Isaiah said, smiling gently again, and reaching out with his right arm to take her hand in his again, "But you don't know my family's history. Ever since the progenitor of our clan, we've made a reputation for ourselves by doing _incredibly _over the top things. What varies a great deal, everything from extreme speed-knitting, to trans-oceanic swimming, to pushing the bounds of jump-field physics, to military service. Whatever we do, the Ivo clan is known for throwing ourselves _entirely_ into it. A girl who burns her house down for a _prank_, was considered prime recruitment material for companies interested in whatever field she went into."

"That," Melissa said, "Makes a certain degree of sense, I suppose."

"More than you might think," Isaiah said, his tone and expression becoming much more serious, "There's only one reason that, by and large, members of the family understand how people can bear to function any other way, and that's because _all_ of us are taught to understand human psychology, philosophy, and theology, at a fundamental level."

"That would make a great deal of difference, I imagine," Melissa said softly, "And I suppose that's why you came to speak with me today."

"Yes," Isaiah said, nodding gravely, "It's sad, really, but very, _very_ few people take the time to learn how the human heart and mind works, especially when it is literally fundamental to every single interpersonal interaction, not to mention understanding _oneself_."

"Yes," Melissa said, "It is. My mother has told me a great deal about how to read people, discern their true motives, and a little about how to work with or around them. It has helped me understand a great deal more of how the Commonwealth functions."

"Indeed," Cameron said, gazing evenly up into Melissa's eyes, "But did she ever delve into matters such as what makes a thing right, or makes it wrong? Into why a man or woman living one way is better or worse than living another way?"

Melissa had to pause for a few moments to think about that.

"No," She eventually said, curiosity tingeing her voice, "She didn't. It was all sort of assumed, wasn't it?"

"For most people," Isaiah said, nodding, "It is, worked into their way of understanding the universe by the culture and family they grow up in. Assumptions about how things _should_ be coloring everything they understand about life. For example, do you think you could ever commit seppuku if you were defeated in battle, or demand it of a subordinate officer if he was so defeated?"

Melissa shook her head violently, her sheer revulsion at the idea nearly robbing her of the ability to speak at all.

"If he lost due to treason," Melissa said sickly, "Otherwise the worst I could imagine would be imprisoning him if it was due to utterly gross incompetence."

"Yet," Isaiah said, "An officer in the DCMS would be _expected_ to offer his death to atone for his shame. Can you see just how drastically different the mindset ingrained into people can be?"

Melissa simply nodded.

"The Lyran Commonwealth," Isaiah said, "Is perhaps the least aggressive or militaristic of the Successor States, as it is at heart, a merchant nation. Aside from the occasional territory-hungry lord, the primary interest of the Archon, her vassals, and the Estates-General is security and stability allow free trade, and the development of a prosperous and wealthy society. Those hungry for power look more to the merchant cartels and the accumulation of wealth, rather than military might. The Free Worlds League is too internally destructive to be as peaceable, the Capellan Confederation is ruled by an extremely ambitious nobility, the Draconis Combine is an iconoclastic militaristic empire, and the Federated Suns culture is intrinsically tied to its proud military tradition. Considering that they neighbor the two most bloodthirsty realms in the Inner Sphere, that tradition is something of a necessity. Would you disagree with any of this?"

Melissa shook her head.

"My point is, that the people of each nation have deep-seated differences in their fundamental patterns of thought, and beyond that, different sub-sections of each realm can be drastically different. You're probably aware that there are still men and women within the Rasalhague region that actively fight to regain their independence from the Combine, independence they lost _eight hundred years ago_."

Melissa nodded again.

"For all of these things though," Isaiah said, shifting around on the floor so that he was sitting beside the bed now, rather than across from it, allowing him to continue to hold her hand without forcing either of them into an awkward posture, "All humans are still, at the most fundamental level, _human, _and there are things that are universal to all of us. Would you agree?"

Melissa nodded again.

"Just what those fundaments _are_ almost everyone disagrees about to some detail or another, but all save the most incredibly jaded or egotistical will agree that there is some degree of intrinsic value to human life, and that everyone desires to be loved."

"Yes," Melissa said emphatically, "One of the hallmarks of the great atrocities throughout history, is the lack of care for human life on the part of those who committed them."

"Indeed," Isaiah said, nodding gravely, "And this brings us back around to you, and your situation right now, with what you've experienced in the last few days."

Melissa hesitantly nodded, not really seeing the connection, but willing at this point to believe that Isaiah would continue to make logical connections.

"Well then," Isaiah said, "I see in you a gentle heart, and am fairly certain that you would much rather _never_ see another die to protect you again, or die on a mission you had sent them on, would you?"

Melissa nodded once, sharply and decisively, unconsciously grasping Isaiah's hand tightly. He gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze before continuing.

"And I'm also fairly sure," Isaiah said, "That at whatever point you come to inherit the Archon's Throne, you would much prefer to allow the borders between your nation and others to remain where they are, rather than another war begin over the simple acquisition of territory, or the ambition to become First Lord of a new Star League, yes?"

Melissa nodded emphatically once more.

"So really," Isaiah said, "The only real reason any would have to attack the Lyran Commonwealth at the time you come to rule it, would be because they want something they know you wouldn't be willing to give, and are willing to kill to take it, wouldn't they?"

Melissa nodded again.

"What would you be willing to go to war to protect, without hesitation?" Isaiah asked.

"Human rights," Melissa said immediately, "There is no way I would permit my people to be subject to the tyrannies of the ISF, or the Maskirovka in the unlikely event of a Capellan invasion. Beyond that, I am not entirely sure beyond that, but I am sure there is more."

"Indeed," Isaiah said, "And do you think that Takashi Kurita or Maximillian Liao would even _hesitate_ to invade the Lyran Commonwealth if it suited their ambitions?"

Melissa reluctantly shook her head.

"Considering that the Successor States are currently, technically at least, at peace, and that both the Draconis Combine and the Capellan Confederation possess an embassy on Tharkad, would it have been at all hard for either to discover that you would be perfectly willing to respect their borders so long as they respected yours?"

"No," Melissa said, frowning, "It wouldn't have been."

"I'll go a step further," Isaiah said, "And speculate that you would not even object to one of the other Successor Lords becoming the First Lord of a new Star League, so long as they respected the Lyran Commonwealth, and I suppose the Federated Suns, sovereignty."

"No," Melissa said, "I wouldn't."

"Do you think that would stop Takashi Kurita from attempting to invade the Commonwealth?"

Melissa shook her head again.

"So then," Isaiah said, "Considering the size of the DCMS, the LCAF, and the AFFS, something like what happened at the Heimdall Base is actually pretty small compared to the destruction that Takashi Kurita's ambitions _could _have wrought, isn't it?"

"Yes," Melissa said reluctantly, "I suppose it is."

"And you know," Isaiah said, gently tugging on her hand to draw her attention and meet her gaze with his own, "You _know_ that what happened on that rock was a _tragedy. _All of those people dead, all those wounded, all for _nothing_ but the ambition for power."

Melissa nodded, her face tightening with emotion as the grief from what she had seen began to return. Isaiah continued to hold her gaze though, his eyes as insistent as his voice.

"So how much more a tragedy if war happens again on the full scale?" Isaiah said insistently, "The Third Succession War lasted almost _one hundred and sixty years._ My great-uncle has been alive for almost the entirety of that, Captain of the _Calvin Joliet_ for more than one hundred years, watching as the Inner Sphere continued to tear itself apart, even as we renovated the Periphery. I know you've seen the differences that open trade with the CTA, not to mention some of the Periphery and Sphere states, has made in the Commonwealth, so you can understand just how much _better_ things can be, can't you?"

"Yes," Melissa said, her voice soft, but firm, "Yes I can."

"And Takashi Kurita," Isaiah said, a sudden fierce intensity in his voice that had _not_ been there before, "Threatened _all_ of that because he wants _power_."

Melissa nodded, surprised by the own stirring fierceness in her heart that resonated with Isaiah's words.

"You have felt guilt, for the people who died on that asteroid, yes?" Isaiah said, his eyes blazing as they burrowed into hers.

Melissa nodded again, the sudden ferocity warring with the guilt that had gnawed on her heart for the last few days.

"_You_," Isaiah said, "Made _none_ of the choices that led to that battle. Someone learned of your journey aboard the _Silver Eagle_, and decided to leak that information to the Kuritans. Kurita decided to send forces to capture you. The men sent decided to blindly obey his orders, and kill in pursuit of you. The men who fought to protect you _chose_ to fight, and from what they have told me, practically had to _sit_ on you to keep you from surrendering yourself to protect them."

"Yes," Melissa said softly, "Yes they did."

"So," Isaiah said, the ferocity fading from his voice, but taking none of the intensity with it, as an odd sort of gentleness not quite like anything Melissa had seen before came forth, "Who then, truly bears the blood-guilt for what happened two days ago on the Rock?"

"Nobody bears the _ultimate_ blood guilt," Melissa said softly, turning away once she began to speak, "Everybody made their own decisions."

"True enough," Isaiah said, "Not quite how I would have looked at it, but true. If you had actually surrendered to the ISF, what do you think would have happened to the Inner Sphere at large?"

Melissa was quiet for a long moment while she thought, trying to puzzle out the various possible results of herself falling into Kuritan hands, before eventually deciding to just answer the thrust of Isaiah's questions, rather than the particulars.

"Takashi's position would strengthen," Melissa said, "The Commonwealth and the Suns would both be considerably weakened."

"Indeed," Isaiah said, "And at best, you'd likely be held hostage in a Japanese palace in the back end of nowhere for the rest of your life, yes?"

Melissa nodded.

"There's no need to go into the worse possibilities," Isaiah said, "The point is, Kurita could easily have found that as a ruler, you'd be willing to live in peace readily, even allow him to become First Lord, so long as he didn't seek to seize _control_ as well as nominal leadership with the position. Instead he chose to attempt violent kidnap. He did not even _bother to find out_ whether or not you would abide peace or war. That says a great deal about the character of the man whose power would have increased substantially relative to your mother and fiance's, had the Kuritans been victorious, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Melissa said, softly, but with an intensity behind that softness now, "It does. Clovis told me, when we were fighting the ISF in the Heimdall base, that the men fighting, weren't fighting to protect _me_, they were fighting to protect what I represented to them. Like protection from tyrants such as Takashi Kurita."

"Indeed," Isaiah said, nodding respectfully, "He's a lot more insightful than most people whose talents lie mostly with electronics, he's a good man. You could have surrendered, and the people who fought to protect you on the Heimdall Base wouldn't have died, but really, would it have made the universe a better place, or a worse place?"

"Worse," Melissa said, "It might even have sparked off a new war."

"Indeed," Isaiah said, drawing her eyes again with a tug on her hand, "To jump back to an earlier point in this entire train of conversation, I said earlier, and you agreed, that all human life has at least _some_ intrinsic value. That's not enough though, by itself, to say that what Takashi Kurita is trying to do is a _bad thing_. What _other_ premise is needed, _logically_, to go with that, in order to make the _emotional_ conception you and I both have that what Takashi Kurita attempted was _wrong_ to be logically consistent?"

Melissa closed her eyes, leaned back and thought furiously for a long moment.

"It's not just that human life has an intrinsic value," She said, eyes opening as she turned to stare down at Isaiah, her own intense gaze readily meeting his own for the first time since they'd begun to speak, "It's that human life is worth _more_ than any man's ambition for power."

"And _now_," Isaiah said with an almost mischevious smile, "We're _getting_ somewhere."

For the first time since the _Silver Eagle_ had been hijacked, Melissa felt a full, natural smile form on her own face to mirror that on Isaiah's.

"Indeed we are, Isaiah," She said happily, "Where do things go from here?"

"From _here_," Isaiah said, standing up, and releasing her hand as he did so, "Things go to the mess hall, because big lads like me need to _eat, _and so do seventeen year olds who've not been taking proper care of themselves for the last few days. From there, if we've got the time, things start to get _Existential_."

"Sounds interesting," Melissa said, "Is the food any good here?"

"Only one way to find out," Isaiah said, "I usually eat aboard the _Trinket_, my dropship."

Then he grinned _that_ grin, the Ivo family grin that had unnerved more people than any other known grin in existence, before turning to offer his back to her.

"Want a piggy-back ride to the mess?"

Melissa found her own grin forming.

((()))

Later, after supper (and the attendant foodfight) had ended, Isaiah escorted the barbeque-sauce smeared Archon-Designate back to her quarters, Salome Ward and Andrew Redburn trailing not far behind.

"So," Melissa said, turning to face Isaiah as they reached the entrance to her guest cabin, "What _is_ the existential aspect of what we talked about earlier?"

"Well," Isaiah said, reaching down to pat her on the shoulder in a distinctly brotherly manner, "Being a Lyran, you're nominally Roman Catholic, yes?"

Melissa nodded.

"The existential aspect," Isaiah said seriously, meeting her gaze with an intense stare, "Is _why_ does mankind have an intrinsic value? I'm a Christian, what catholics would call a protestant, and I believe that God created man with that deep, intrinsic worth. There's a lot of consequences to believing that that aren't obvious at first though, and you need to decide for yourself _why_ you believe people have that kind of ingrained value."

Melissa nodded.

"I need to go get some sleep before my next duty rotation," Isaiah said, "If you want to talk again, comm the Trinket, and ask for me. So long as we're not in combat, I should be able to chat."

"Thank you," Melissa said softly, then reached forward to give Isaiah a hug, an experience that vaguely reminded her of hugging her mother when she was much younger due to the size disparity.

"You're welcome," Isaiah said, returning her hug before disengaging to leave, "I'll see you around."

"Goodbye," Melissa said, giving the departing giant a wave and a smile before retreating into the quarters she was sharing with Salome.

((()))

June 10th, 3027

Draconis March, Federated Suns

Tara, Northwind.

_Mammoth-_class dropships made a _great deal_ of noise and heat and noise when they descended through atmosphere, and had a considerable minimum safe distance when it was on final approach to land. It was probably best for Hanse Davion that he had a large number of friends and bodyguards keeping him from pushing that limit.

"Cool down, Hanse," Ardan Sortek said, "She barely even got _bruised_."

"That's more than what _should_ have happened," Hanse said harshly. "Damn Dracs."

Ardan Sortek was hardly going to dispute _that_ statement with Hanse Davion, not with the man's history. So they watched silently from behind the blast windows as the _Mammoth_ dropped the last hundred meters to land at one of the secured pads of Tara's spaceport, a pad that barely fit it. Even within the bunker-like terminal, they could feel the ground rumble as the massive dropship touched down, and feel the heat through the blast screen.

Almost the instant that the drive flare cut, the terminal's passenger gantry extended, an armored enclosure powered by hydraulics, that telescoped out more than fifty meters to align itself with one of the _Mammoth's_ hatches. A series of metallic clankings echoed up the enclosure as the boarding ramp docked with the dropship, then a green indicator lit over the gantry's entrance, and Hanse Davion took off down the enclosed passage at a run.

Few things could drive The Fox to haste, Ardan Sortek was not entirely sure if he was surprised that his betrothed being endangered was one of them, but he was certainly glad of it. It said a great deal about how much he cared for the girl. The airlock on the dropship had only just opened by the time Hanse reached it, and one of the guards on the inside nearly drew their weapon on him before they realized just who was sprinting towards them. Instead, the guard stepped aside and allowed the Prince through.

Hanse skidded to a stop just inside of the hatch, as he caught sight of his fiance, who was looking at him with a mixture of relief and bemusement. Crossing the short remaining distance between them, Hanse carefully looked Melissa up and down. Dressed in a standard-issue jumpsuit roughly her size, most of her body was entirely out of view, but her hands and face had no obvious injury, her posture didn't suggest at damaged muscles, bones, or joints, and the smile on her face, while not so innocent as those he had seen from her before, bore no trace of pain.

"It's good to see you too, Hanse," Melissa said with a hint of laughter in her voice, "Though most take 'seeing you' a little less literally."

A snort of laugh escaped from Hanse, then he swept the much younger woman into a careful hug.

"You're alright?" He asked, his voice strained with emotion.

"I'm alright," Melissa said softly, gently returning his hug, and feeling her heart warm at his concern, "Thank you for coming for me."

"Always," Hanse said, burying his face in her blonde hair.

((()))

Roughly an hour later, at a secured country manor outside of Tara, the primary (surviving) factors in the events at Styx were assembled in a comfortable sitting room, most arrayed in easy chairs, while Hanse and Melissa sat together on a love seat.

"So," Hanse said, looking at each of the room's occupants in turn, "I've read all of your reports on the situation, at least twice each. I, and my nation, as well as Archon Katrina and the Commonwealth, owe all of you more than we can repay. Ironically enough, only Lieutenant Redburn is even a member of the AFFS or LCAF, and aside from him, none of you are even citizens of my realm. How can I repay you all?"

"Keeping the fact that the CTA stole a pair of DCMS Jumpships and destroyed their dropships quiet would be a wonderful start, Prince Davion," Isaiah Ivo said with a wry smile, "Wouldn't want them to think we're any more biased against them than they already do."

"You aren't in a habit of hijacking Jumpships like that, are you?" Patrick Kell asked with a raised eyebrow.

"This would be the second time," Isaiah said, "The first time was more than a hundred years ago, when a pair of DCMS Jumpships came across one of our worlds, and tried to attack without provocation."

"I take it that's why you're not exactly friends with them," Clovis Holstein said.

"That'd be part of it," Isaiah said, "We also figured they were the most likely to try to 'commandeer' one of our vessels if Takashi Kurita felt he was entitled. Nuclear weapons are _not _ standard loadout for CTA vessels, and it's no coincidence that it was one of our ships in Drac space that was equipped with them."

"Word won't get out from any of my people," Hanse said, "But I am rather curious about that Jumpship. It looks more like it's built more along the lines of a Warship than a commercial vessel."

"That's because it was," Isaiah said with a shrug, "That class of vessel was designed because we lacked the capacity to build a proper Warship, but needed something to deal with pirates and possible Comstar attacks. We've built more than one, the number is classified of course, but we don't have the budget to match Comstar's fleet strength with our own. They've done pretty well at hunting pirates though."

"And I'm guessing it's no coincidence that it was so close to Terra when trouble came knocking," Salome Ward said wryly.

"Come now," Isaiah said, grinning broadly, "I'm a a mere 'mech Pilot. I hardly make deployment decisions for jump-capable escort vessels!"

"I'm sure," Davion said with a smile of his own, "But we're getting off track here. What can I offer the rest of you, and maybe something more than just not betraying the CTA for helping us?"

Ivo had an _I__dea_. With that Idea came the _grin_. Being men and women of character and experience none of the room's other occupants shuddered at the sight, but they now understood why the Ivo Grin had been made note of in the history books. Hanse suddenly had a sinking feeling in his chest, but manned up and ignored it.

"Seeing as how we seem to be good at the body-guard business," Isaiah said, "How about a contract as such?"

"A contract hardly seems just reward when your abilities are so thoroughly proven," Hanse said.

"To serve as a permanent part of the Steiner-Davion protection detail?" Isaiah asked, _grinning_ again.

Hanse blinked, but showed no other reaction. Andrew Redburn's eyes widened at the man's audacity. Salome Ward snorted. Clovis Holstein grinned like a maniac, while his mother gasped in surprise. Melissa giggled; she felt she should have seen the request coming.

"That," Hanse said slowly, "Is not entirely unreasonable, so long as it is only _part_ of the guard detail."

"Of course," Isaiah said, nodding as he leaned back in his seat and stretched before resting his hands on the back of his head, "It's really more of a way of making sure you both get to know our people on a more personal level, and that we can have some influence on your heirs as they grow up. A lot harder to de-humanize people you've known your whole life."

"Does it count as manipulation if they tell you they're doing it, but you still can't refuse?" Holstein asked, clearly amused.

"Naw," Isaiah said, _grinning_ again, "Then it's called being a Magnificient Bastard. At least that's what Granny always says."

"I'll have to meet this grandmother of yours some day," Hanse said, then turned his gaze to the others, "What of the rest of you?"

"The CTA people said they could grow back my legs," Patrick Kell said, "Don't suppose I could persuade you to foot the bill for that?"

"Of course," Hanse said, nodding, "I'll acquire a new mech for you too, since your ride was destroyed at Styx."

"I'm fairly sure that you're aware that mech was Ardan Sortek's anyways," Kell said.

"Your point?" Hanse said innocently.

Patrick rolled his eyes, and subsided.

"How about you, Salome?" Hanse asked.

"I have something in mind, Prince Davion," Salome said, "But it's best if we speak of it in private later."

Hanse nodded, then turned to look at the Holstein's. The elder was rather flustered by the Prince's direct attention, something that caused Melissa to smile, though she hid it carefully behind one hand, but the younger eyed the First Prince speculatively in return.

"Ivo's given me a bit of an idea," Clovis said, "I wouldn't mind the opportunity to work with some better materials. I hear the NAIS is quite the place."

"It certainly is, and there's always space for someone as talented as you are," Hanse said, nodding, "And though it's not to leave this room, we've also been constructing a new shipyard, which I'm sure the your mother's jumpship could use some time seeing some service in."

"I'm sure she'll agree when she's not too flustered to speak, your highness," Clovis said, nodding.

"Which just leaves us with Captain Redburn here," Hanse said, turning to the young lieutenant.

"Sir," Redburn said, glancing down for a moment to make sure he hadn't forgotten what his rank tabs said, "Unlike the others here, I _am_ an officer in the AFFS, and was simply doing my duty."

"Right," Hanse said, snorting and rolling his eyes, "Just doing your duty, because it's every mech pilot's duty to serve as an infantry officer in microgravity against elite ISF strike forces. The way I heard it, they had to sit on you to keep you from trying to attack the Drac mechs. On foot. In a hangar bay with no atmosphere. _Just_ doing your duty."

Melissa smiled at the newly-promoted man, a sad smile as her fiancee's words reminded her of the men who _hadn't_ survived the infantry battles in the Heimdall base.

"You, at least, I can _order_ to tell me what you want," Hanse said, "And believe me, if I didn't have such a strong grasp of how important experience and respect from your peers is in the chain of command, I'd have bumped you up to more than just Captain. So out with it."

Redburn's jaw worked as he tried to escape from the corner Hanse had backed him into, but eventually he relented.

"Fine, sir," He said, "There's some correspondence I would like to engage in with someone I met while I was in the Lyran Commonwealth, but don't really have the funds to pay for timely delivery of."

"I'll have an account for priority mail set up," Hanse said, "For _whoever_ you decide to exchange messages with."

"Make sure it's not exclusive to Comstar, Highness," Isaiah put in, "When CCI's network goes up, he'll want cheaper, better service."

"I'll keep that in mind," Hanse said.

"Andrew," Melissa said with a gleam in her eye, "This someone wouldn't have happened to have been on Tharkad, would she?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, she would," Andrew said, not realizing the trap he'd just walked into.

"Oh lord," Melissa said, bursting into laughter, "It's _Misha_, isn't it? You fell for _Misha! _That's _perfect!_"

Redburn stared at her in perplexed confusion.

"Salome!" Melissa declared, jumping upright and dramatically pointing her finger skyward, "We must go make _girl talk!_"

She then took the amused older woman by the arm, and led her out of the sitting room, leaving the men (and the Holstein matriarch) behind. Hanse stared after her flabbergasted.

"Where did _that_ come from?" He breathed.

"Stress relief, probably," Isaiah said, "I've been big-brothering her since Styx, but she's been sharing a cabin with Salome. We may have been encouraging her to... _cut loose_ a bit more, and worry less about presenting a prim face in front of others."

"Besides," Patrick said, "Considering what Salome's probably going to ask you for, their minds were probably already running along similar lines."

((()))

End Chapter.

AN: I'm probably going to put the story on Hiatus after I finish with the Fourth Succession War era, as I'm more interested in Brutal Harry's sequel than what I have planned for the Clan Invasion time period. There'll probably be at _least_ two hundred thousand words covering that time span, maybe more (or maybe even two hundred _thousand _ or more). I'm still not entirely sure what I'm going to do with the 3039 war, a lot of that will probably depend on how character development, with Hanse Davion especially, turns out. The story's started to turn more into a full-on story, and less of a timeline of changes again; I think I like it.


	6. Chapter 5

AN: I just _cannot_ seem to decide which project to work on. I have two large-scale projects that I've got 15k+ words on for starter work, but I'm not willing to post anywhere until I've got enough that I'm confident I'll actually complete them. I _hate_ it when a good fic dies, and never want to do that to a reader. The only story I've posted that's dead was the Dungeon Crawler, and I wouldn't exactly call that good writing, even if it was _fun_ writing. Working with characters that are actually going to be sticking around has made this fic a lot more engaging for me to spend time on.

On that note, I'm not entirely sure why I keep writing scenes between Isaiah and Melissa, they just keep coming to mind, and making sense to write and include to me.

((()))

Chapter 5: Wedding Crashers.

Or,

((()))

June 20th, 2027

Dropship _Old Man Bones_

On Command Circuit to New Avalon.

"Isaiah," Melissa said softly, "Can we talk?"

"Certainly," Isaiah said, pulling the rest of himself out of the guts of his mech, "What did you wish to speak of, Princess?"

"First of all," She said, seating herself on the armor panel that usually covered the portion of Isaiah's mech that he was currently working on, "Now that you've reminded me, I'm curious as to why you call me Princess. It's certainly thematically appropriate to my station, but not technically correct until I marry Hanse."

"That's easy," Isaiah said, "I'm using it as a nickname. I can tell you're not terribly comfortable with your titles, but if I start addressing you by name, others will start taking offense."

"I think I quite like that," Melissa said after a moment's thought, then smiled, "The second thing I wish to speak of with you, is if you could get yourself assigned to the new bodyguard detail? I've grown rather fond of you."

"I already have been, Princess," Isaiah said with a smile, "The heads of the CTA are hardly unaware of the fact that you and I have already developed a friendship, and they aren't so blind as to not see the advantage in that. Besides, even if they didn't, my family has a great deal of pull in the CTA. Gramps, that's Cameron Ivo, rarely asks for things from the CTA's governing board, but he never takes no for an answer when he does."

"Never?" Melissa asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Never," Isaiah said, a more serious note entering his voice, "He never asks for something without good reason, and the first time they tried to deny him, he took up his accumulated leave, then spent the next six months exposing every dirty secret of the men and women who voted against him, and got them ousted from the board. There've been a few times board members have made things difficult him in the decades since, but there were never enough board members immune to both reason and intimidation to stop him."

"You come from a remarkable family," Melissa said softly.

"So do you, Princess," Isaiah said, looking her directly in the eye, "Your mother was the first to successfully push for peace in the Sphere in one hundred and sixty years. That's a big deal."

"That's what I _really_ want to talk to you about, Isaiah," Melissa said quietly, "How do you stand up under it all? Live in the shadow of such amazing people, live up to the expectations?"

"Ah," Isaiah said gently, "That. It's easy to forget how young you actually are, Princess, you're unusually mature for your age, even by the standards of the social circles I was a part of."

Many young women of Melissa's general disposition would have blushed; she instead shrugged.

"It's kind of a necessity," She said with some melancholy, "I'm going to be married, soon enough, and everything I've observed of married couples that did, and didn't, work out, makes it clear that maturity is essential to a marriage surviving."

Isaiah gave her a long, measuring look.

"I'm single," He said eventually, "So I can't really give you much advice on married life, but I can lend some counsel on relationships in general, if you'd like, but before then, back to you original question. Expectations."

Melissa nodded.

"It really is very simple," Isaiah said, "But like so many simple, but important things, being simple doesn't make it _easy._"

"I'd imagine not," Melissa said.

"No," Isaiah said nodding, "Certainly not. The simple part of it, is realizing that while humans are wired to desire the approval of their peers, the approval of your peers is not as important as doing the right thing."

"And the hard part?" Melissa asked.

"Making that heart-knowledge," Isaiah said with a wry smile, "Not just head-knowledge."

He slid his upper torso back into his mech's chasis, and began tinkering around with something Melissa couldn't see.

"There is, you see," He said, "A great deal that the human mind and heart processes subconsciously. Social awareness, the desire for acceptance, and feeling the effects of 'peer pressure' is part of what gets processed subconsciously. After all, a lot of social acceptance comes for frankly stupid things when you're a teenager in the sort of social circles that pop up in common education systems. Smoking, for example. We've known that smoking is unhealthy for over a thousand years, but on some worlds, it's still 'cool' to smoke, and people will let peer-pressure drive them into it. If they were processing things consciously, reasonably, would they really want the acceptance and approval of someone who wants them to addict themselves to a habit that damages the body and shortens the lifespan? Especially considering that there have been healthier ways to get a nicotine fix for also more than a thousand years?"

"Not really," Melissa said with a faint, sad smile, "And I suppose your next example would be, why worry about what people will think of how well you do something, when family or friends who really care about you won't reject you if you do poorly?"

"Something like that," Isaiah said, and Melissa could hear the smile in his voice, "Like I said, simple, but not easy. I can tell you how it's done, but as with everything that builds character, the grit's always in it for the person doing the building."

"I suppose it wouldn't really be character building, otherwise," Melissa said.

"Exactly," Isaiah said, popping back out for a moment to flash her a grin, "Now, Princess, do you know anything about soldering?"

"A bit," Melissa said, "But I've little hands on experience."

"Knowing your memory retention rate," Isaiah said, "That should be more than enough. Now, could you pass me the soldering iron and the 2-gauge copper wire?"

((()))

October 21st, 3027

Avalon City, New Avalon.

NAIS Astral Cartography wing, conference room.

"Terra isn't going to work," Ardan Sortek said flatly, "Not unless you actually believe in Comstar's neutrality."

Ardan Sortek, Hanse Davion, Melissa Steiner, Morgan Hasek-Davion, and Isaiah Ivo, were all seated around the conference room's custom-built map table, the surface of which was designed for the digital display of, maps.

"We can either try to find a way to make it work," Hanse Davion said, "Or we can find a different planet that the other Successor Lords would actually be willing to visit."

"We have Denebola, New Earth, Rigel Kentarus, and Fomalhaut," Melissa said softly, "But they all suffer from the same lack of neutrality. Perhaps we could persuade the Marik's to visit Denebola, but the others are unlikely to agree."

"We'll never persuade any of the Successor Lords to travel more than a single jump from their borders," Hasek-Davion said, "Especially without Terra's implicit neutrality."

"Well," Sortek said, "It looks like you'll have to either take it to one of the Periphery states, and only have one or two of the lords show, or give up altogether."

"The CTA has some holdings on worlds near the Free Worlds/Lyran border," Isaiah Ivo put in, "If you end up going that route, I'm sure the local authorities would be happy to host the wedding for you. Also has the advantage of the CTA being neutral."

"A fallback plan, I guess," Hanse said, looking to Melissa to make sure she agreed, "Does anyone have any thoughts that could possibly validate our primary objective?"

"Um," Morgan said, manipulating the map display on the table for a few moments, "I recall something from my history studies, something near Terra... ah."

The map shifted to a display of the Inner Sphere and near Periphery between the second and third Succession Wars; Isaiah became very still for a moment as it did so.

"Caph," He said, "More or less became a hermited world when the Third Succession War began, under the aegis of Comstar's neutrality, specifically wishing to avoid the ravages of war. Considering that the Third Succession War is finally over, do you suppose they might be willing to serve as a neutral hosting site?"

"That sounds like it has potential," Melissa said, eying Caph's near-ideal location near Terra on the map, "What do you think, Hanse?"

Hanse, however, was looking sharply at Isaiah. The two stared at each other for some time, Isaiah's guileless expression matched against Hanse's sharp countenance. Melissa turned to Sortek, confused question clear on her face, but Sortek just shrugged, and Morgan did the same when she looked at him. Six months ago, Melissa likely would have simply waited the staring contest out. Six months ago, Melissa Steiner had not been through a small slice of hell on Styx, or begun to develop a systemic worldview that involved her being less passive.

"I assume," She said with amusement plain in her voice, "That there's more than simple male dominance to this staring match?"

Isaiah barked off a laugh, and looked to Melissa, nodding in Hanse's direction.

"Ask your fiance," he said with a wry smile.

Melissa looked at Hanse.

"The CTA isn't the Caffeine Trade Authority," Hanse said decisively, "It's the _Caph_ Trade Authority. Or, at the least, it's _based_ on Caph."

"Considering Caph's history as a hotbed of scientific development," Morgan said, "The technology the CTA makes use of would not exactly be surprising."

"Considering the nature of mankind's pace of technological development throughout all of history," Isaiah countered, "_Any_ nation that puts cultural value on innovation developing to the level the CTA has would not be surprising."

"A valid point, I suppose," Hanse said, gesturing towards the map "But Caph is a single jump from Styx. Awful convenient how a CTA escort vessel happened to be in the area."

"Convenient indeed," Isaiah said with a grin, offering no further explanation.

"Indeed," Hanse said, "That would also explain your people's antipathy towards the Draconis Combine. We can't have been the first to be curious about what happened to Caph."

"Comstar's Exploratory Corps has been hunting for us for more than half a century," Isaiah said, "Don't you think they would have found our homeworld if it was so close to home?"

"They've been searching the Periphery," Morgan pointed out, "Not the heart of the Inner Sphere."

Nobody said anything for a few minutes, as Isaiah exchanged glances back and forth with the two Davions, and it was Melissa who eventually broke the silence.

"There's one thing I've learned about you and your family, Isaiah," Melissa said softly, "It's that you don't always tell the whole truth, but you don't lie directly either. For all that you've said just now, you haven't actually denied that Caph is your homeworld."

Isaiah closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair, smiling wryly.

"Granny always said teaching people to be observant can sometimes bite you in the butt," He said, turning to favor Melissa with a self-depreciating smile, "Looks like you caught me, Princess."

Melissa smiled sadly back at him, quite aware that forcing him to either break honesty or admit the truth may have gotten him into a great deal of trouble.

"Well, your highnesses" Isaiah said wryly, turning back to face Hanse and Morgan, "You've caught me. Mind if I get in touch with the boss to talk about this?"

"Go ahead," Hanse said, nodding at the other man, "We can wai-"

He broke off as, rather than standing to leave the room, Isaiah simply retrieved an electronic device from his pocket, and activated it. A miniaturized holographic field formed above the device, something that all those present knew CTA technology was capable of forming without a holotank, but _not_ on such a small scale. Currently, the holo-field displayed the CCI logo, and the words 'Isaiah Ivo, logging on.'

"Call 'The Boss,'" Isaiah said, addressing the device, "Priority Alpha-Alpha-Alpha."

"Call order confirmed," The device declared, "Establishing secure connection... Done."

"You're accessing the CCI HPG network from _here?_" Sortek burst out, "This is a secure facility!"

_Ring-Ring._

"Really?" Isaiah said, giving Sortek _The Grin_, "I hadn't noticed."

_Ring-Ring._

Considering that they had passed through three security checkpoints on their way in, Sortek _highly_ doubted that, but bit off the urge to retort.

_Ring-Ring._

To Melissa, Hanse, and Morgan, it was readily apparent why Isaiah had chosen to make the call from the conference room. Always negotiate from a position of strength, and making it clear that the CTA possessed _still_ more than what MIIO and Loki had been able to ferret out, even if one of their largest secrets had just been uncovered, presented a position of strength.

_Ring_-click.

"Hello, Isaiah. What's the panic?"

Every person in the room, save Morgan Hasek-Davion, recognized the voice, as the small holofield resolved into the face of Cameron Ivo.

"The Fox earned his name," Isaiah said, "Thought Caph might be a good place to hold the big wedding, and figured a few things out."

"Ah," Cameron said, "I suppose I'd better have a chat with him."

"Sure," Isaiah said, before spinning the transceiver around to face Hanse, "Here you go."

Hanse found the complete lack of surprise or shock on the senior Ivo's face to be utterly insufferable. A rational part of his mind recognized that it was not entirely surprising that someone more than a hundred years his senior could play the game of masks better than he, but most of him was resenting that advantage just then.

"Ah, Prince Davion," Ivo said cordially, "I suppose you probably have a few questions?"

Hanse closed his eyes and took a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"I want to know a great deal," Hanse said, opening his eyes, "All of which devolve to 'How?' 'Why?' and 'What will you do now?'"

"A fair enough set of questions," Ivo said evenly, "I can answer 'How' and 'Why,' but for the last, you'll have to speak with Duke Gustafson. Something I'd recommend be done in person."

"The Gustafson's are still in power?" Morgan asked in surprise.

"Yes," Ivo said, "There've been a couple coup attempts, but nothing mom and dad couldn't handle."

"Your family is in a habit of putting down insurrections?" Ardan Sortek asked.

"Indeed," Ivo said, flashing _The Grin_ for a moment, "There's a _Reason_ that the Ivo family are favored agents of the Gustafson's, and, by extension, the CTA."

"Moving things back onto topic," Melissa said gently, turning the holo-relay slightly so that both herself and Hanse were visible to Ivo, "How and Why?"

"As to 'how,'" Ivo said, "My father was an unexpected survivor of one of the last attacks perpetrated by Rho division of ROM during operation Holy Shroud in 2842. Are any of you familiar with it?"

"There's vague mentions in some of Michael Davion's personal journals," Hanse said, "Nothing very clear-cut."

"It was a five-year operation by Comstar," Ivo said, his tone becoming much more grim, "Perpetrated across the entire Inner Sphere, that destroyed research facilities, advanced manufactories, and killed scientists all across the Sphere. My father's older sister was one of the victims on Caph."

He paused for a moment to let that sink in, several of those present in the room having a hard time wrapping their minds around the casual reference to a man from two centuries past as 'dad,' before continuing.

"Cameron Ivo was an engineer, and took much the mindset of one in choosing how to respond to what had happened. It would have been easy for him to go on a personal crusade, violently or politically attempting to convince others that Comstar was _not_ what it seemed to be, however, he recognized that between the public's entrenched perception of Comstar, and their near-absolute control of interplanetary media, that would most probably not amount to much. So instead he joined Comstar."

_That_ elicited a raised eyebrow from Hanse, and a shocked expression from Melissa.

"Yeah, not what most people would have expected," Ivo said, "But he knew what he was doing. He spent twenty-some years working himself into, and up the ranks of ROM, and Rho division in particular, to make _certain _that he knew _exactly_ what was going on. He also stockpiled as much of the captured and destroyed research data as he could, as well as general intelligence on Comstar as a whole. Through a series of both deliberately engineered and fortuitous events, Caph's withdrawal from the Inner Sphere at large was arranged, with him serving as Comstar's contact man on-planet in case someone decided to get frisky and attack a world that had dropped out of contact.

"My mother, Amanda, who was the Duke's science advisor at the time, drugged Cameron before convincing the Duke to make Cameron's posting as Comstar's contact on-world a part of the deal. From what she tells me, he had every intention of going off on a suicide mission against Rho division as some kind of atonement for what he'd done on missions for them. I suppose I should probably mention that my mother was ten years Cameron's junior, and the only other survivor of the attack in 2842, entirely because my father saved her. She'd been planning on marrying him for more than twenty years, and more or less dragged him to the altar once the deal was settled.

"Duke Gustafson then immediately turned the entire weight of his government behind reverse-engineering the recovered research data my father brought, and pushing the technological envelope from that point on. So, 'Why' is because Comstar is run by a bunch of murderous, dogmatic bastards. 'How' is by the weight of my father's personal effort, Duke Gustafson and my mother's scientific efforts, and the unified efforts of most of Caph's people ever since then."

There was silence for a time, as people digested the abbreviated story that Ivo had just shared.

"By the way," He eventually added, "My father died personally thwarting an assassination attempt aimed at wiping out both our, and the Duke's entire family."

"Quite the man," Melissa said softly, "How old were you when he died?"

"Fourteen," Ivo said with a shrug, "The memory hasn't really faded though. Have you ever seen a man rip someone's arms off, then use the body to beat someone else to death? My father's last fight isn't really something _anyone_ forgets easily. Anyways, I'll try to arrange a meeting with the Duke; I'll contact Isaiah when I've spoken with him."

"We'll look forward to hearing from you, Captain Ivo," Melissa said with a gentle smile, "Goodbye."

The connection cut, and Isaiah retrieved the device, stowing it in one of his pockets.

"Is there a particular reason you ended the call so quickly?" Hanse asked his soon-to-be wife.

"He was upset," Melissa said gently, laying a hand on Hanse's arm, "We stirred up difficult memories. Did you notice how he didn't even say goodbye? He's always been impeccable about polite greetings and farewells before."

"I did," Hanse said, "I'd just thought it was another of his eccentricities."

"Men," Melissa said, rolling her eyes with a small smile.

Silence passed for a few minutes, as the various attendees of the meeting digested the story, or in Isaiah's case, curiously watched their expressions while they did so, and waited for them to start asking him to fill in some of the blanks.

Then the conference room's door opened, and Quintus Allard entered.

"Sorry I'm late," He said briskly as he crossed the room to take a seat beside Ardan Sortek, "Some priority dispatches delayed me. Did I miss anything important?"

Melissa giggled.

((()))

October 25th, 3027

Avalon City, New Avalon.

Prince's Palace, Private Wing.

"We need to tell them, Hanse," Melissa said, conviction behind her voice, "It wouldn't be right to keep them in the dark."

"I'm not terribly fond of it either," Hanse said, "But operational security _must_ be absolute. Especially with what we've learned from the CTA about Comstar being even worse than we thought."

"So just tell the Duke when you speak with him," Melissa said insistently, "You know they are stout allies, and not at all afraid to throw their weight around, if they think it right."

"I know," Hanse said grimly, "But the consequences if they try to stop us, will be more than just severe."

"Yes," Melissa said, her tone softening, "But if we don't at least try, we will be dealing with them dishonestly, especially now that they provide us with personal guards."

Melissa crossed the short distance between the two of them, and took his hands in her own, looking him in the eye pleadingly.

"Hanse," She said softly, "You are many things, and quite frankly, your reputation as 'The Fox,' is well-earned. But part of the reason that I have been a willing party to this whole grand enterprise, since the very beginning, is that I have always known you as a _good_ man, who does what is _right_."

Hanse felt his heart quiver inside of him in ways he had not felt since his first fiancee had been slain on the battlefield more than a decade ago.

And it was in that moment, that Hanse Davion realized that while he held genuine affection for Melissa, the relationship he was getting into, went far deeper than he had really understood before.

((()))

October 29th, 3027

Avalon City, New Avalon.

Royal Spaceport, Secure Conference Room.

"You move fast," The Fox said as he shook hands with Duke Gustafson, "Eight days from next door to Terra, all the way out to New Avalon. Must have been a hell of a trip. I'm surprised you could get a command circuit set up that quickly."

"Being the head of Caph's executive government, as well as its military, does have its advantages, Highness," Gustafson said with a smile, "It's an honor to meet you, your highness, your highness."

He bowed briefly to both Hanse and Melissa as he spoke.

"Please," Melissa said graciously, gesturing to the comfortable chairs that occupied the well-appointed conference room, "Have a seat."

He did so, then the royal couple followed, Hanse first moving Melissa's chair for her, before taking his own seat beside her.

"So," Hanse said, "Captain Ivo gave us the bare bones, I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate?"

"I would indeed care to," Gustafson said, "But it _will_ take quite a while."

"While not limitless," Hanse said, "We _do_ have a great deal of time."

"Well then..." Gustafson said.

((()))

"That's quite the story," Melissa said, somewhat wide-eyed.

"Don't I know it," Gustafson said, "You should hear Granny Ivo tell it; she's developed a flair for the dramatic over the last two hundred years that you would scarcely believe."

"Two hundred years," Hanse said, "So your anti-aging technology works retroactively?"

"So long as we've got the genetic data from before it started to decay with age, sure," Gustafson said, "We can do genetic reconstruction from a current sample on someone who is already aged, but that's a lot more delicate, and has much higher chances of side effects."

"The particulars of that aside," Hanse said, "What will the CTA be doing now?"

"Ah," Gustafson said, somewhat sheepishly, "That gets a little bit tricky. You see, Caph, and her colonies, as a whole, are accustomed to being an independent power, run by a constitutional monarchy with my family at the head. The Gustafson family, however, still considers its oath of service to the Davion family to be valid."

"Oh my," Melissa said quietly, "That _would_ complicate things."

"And I suppose," Hanse said, "That attempting to fold Caph into the Federated Commonwealth as it forms wouldn't go over well?"

"Civil war would be just sort of an absolute certainty," Gustafson said grimly, grimacing slightly, "We have our own, _very strong_, cultural identity now, and a part of that is a fierce independent spirit. Some of the worst have become arrogant, but seeing the Periphery nations modernize to around our own level has kept that faction in the minority."

"Why bring up your family's personal fealty then?" Hanse asked.

"Because it still matters," Gustafson said, "Any citizen of Caph can tell you, that the Gustafson family _always_ honors its commitments, one way or another. Integrity is critical to good governance, and integrity demands that our fealty to the Davion family be honored."

Silence passed for some time, as Hanse decided how to respond to this new revelation.

"The best solution to this I can see," Hanse finally said, "Though part of me objects to it, is to release your family from its oath of service, in exchange for an explicit peace treaty and trade agreement. I'd ask for an out-and-out alliance, but I doubt I'd be able to get it."

"That," Gustafson said, a subtle tension leaving his body language as he spoke, "I _can_ agree to in good faith on the part of my people."

"I'm glad to hear it," Hanse said with a grim smile, "But there's something you should be aware of before you do, something that makes 'peace treaty and trade agreement' particularly important, both for what they don't include, and what they _do._"

"And that would be, your highness?" Gustafson asked.

"It is, fortunately, not common knowledge," Hanse said, "But shortly after the end of the Third Succession War, Maximillian Liao made a very direct attempt to replace me with an impostor. I don't suppose your intelligence people caught wind of that?"

"No," Gustafson said, "We heard something fishy was up, but our intelligence, despite what _some_ of my subjects might think, is not omnipresent, nor omniscient. We pay more attention to unit deployments and trade policies than court politics."

"I'll spare you the gory details," Hanse said, "But as you can imagine, considering the tech base available here on New Avalon in particular, the impostor had to be _very_ convincing to get anywhere at all with the attempt. Some of the means used, have made it clear to me that Mad Max isn't just on the edge of insanity, but _very_ thoroughly over the line."

"I take it 'The Fox' is not planning playing passive in response to that," Gustafson said wryly.

"You'd be right," Hanse said grimly, "At the same time as the wedding reception, a full-scale invasion of the Capellan Confederation will begin."

"...Ah." Gustafson said, pausing for a moment before continuing, "And I suppose that, considering the CTA's past policy on trade with the Successor States while they're at war, you wish for the accords drawn up between Caph and the Federated Commonwealth to include not cutting you off once the war commences."

"You would be correct," Hanse said, "Especially with the mess Comstar is likely to make of things. We're going to need CCI's HPG network as reliable backup."

"I can make it happen," Gustafson said, "Mind you, it won't be _popular_, but at worst I'll have to step down as planetary Duke prematurely, and things will move on, by and large, as normal."

"Step down?" Melissa asked, interjecting herself into the conversation again.

"One of the changes wrote by near-limitless life spans," Gustafson said, waving dismissively, "No more than fifty years out of a hundred for any Duke or Duchess. You might want to look into implementing such a policy yourselves; we're looking to start marketing anti-aging treatments through the Sphere by 2030, once the medical infrastructure is more capable of handling it. Medical matters aside, I can do it, but you may have to deal with some irritation from my people."

"Like who?" Melissa asked curiously.

"Captain Ivo," Gustafson said bleakly.

"Oh dear," Melissa said, "That doesn't sound like fun."

"No," Gustafson said, "It won't be."

((()))

November, 3027

Imperial City, Luthien

Coordinator's Chambers, Imperial Palace.

"Davion schemes, my son," Takashi Kurita said sternly, as he gazed out over the Imperial City from the palace's hilltop perch, "I can see no other reason for denying the Blakist's offer of Terra as a neutral site for his 'wedding.'"

"_Hai, Oto-sama,_" Theodore Kurita replied respectfully, "What do you wish of me?"

"We cannot afford to appear weak before the Fox," Takashi said, "But neither can we afford to be recklessly vulnerable. Unfortunately, affairs of state occupy far too much of my time for me to give this issue the study and consideration necessary to determine the correct course of action. So, I place the decision of who the Combine shall send to attend Davion's wedding in your hands."

"_Hai,_ _Oto-sama,_" Theodore said, "Does this include military assets should the Fox prove treacherous again?"

"Indeed," Takashi said, "I will authorize up to five regiments deployed for this purpose."

Theodore nodded, already planning.

((()))

Secured Conference room, Imperial Palace.

"It is not a small thing you ask for," Subhash Indrahar, the more or less personification of the Draconis Combine's intelligence arm, said calmly to the heir-apparent to the Dragon Throne, "The archives are nothing if not expansive, and the records you desire accessed require a fairly high degree of clearance. Manpower with that level of clearance is in rather short supply."

"I understand," Theodore said, nodding gravely, "But I am absolutely certain that the key to this lies with the CTA, not the Suns, nor the Lyrans."

"I am inclined to agree," Indrahar said, nodding gravely, "Hanse Davion is a very cunning man, and Katrina Steiner is a woman of fierce spirit, but they are both known to us. The CTA, and their world of origin, have been a mystery since they first arrived at the Periphery, and shockingly little has been learned of them since they moved into the Sphere at large two years ago."

"Indeed," Theodore said, "There is also the question of why they sent a vessel to every realm, except for the Dragon's."

"This is true," Indrahar said, "You believe then, that the answer can be found in the archives?"

"I believe that it is the only place it _may_ be found," Theodore said, "Unless the CTA choose to inform us."

"Would that we should be so fortunate," Indrahar said, "Although, with the Ivo family's reputation for forthrightness, if one were to ask him, perhaps he would."

"One can only hope," Theodore said.

((()))

November, 3027.

Tikonov Commonality, Capellan Confederation

Uninhabited System, Nadir Jump Point.

"And this will all happen on the third day of the festivities?" A rather sallow man wearing the uniform of the Maskirovka asked.

"It _should_," The civilian-outfitted man 'sitting' across from him said, "However, interstellar travel times can, as has been noted, be rather imprecise."

"I will inform the Coordinator of this," The Maskirovka agent said, "Should he deign it worthy of his exalted attention, I will return here with a reply to your message."

((()))

November, 3027

Atreus City, Atreus

Captain-General's Residence.

"Will you go?"

"Of course I'll go. While we're not on _friendly_ terms with Steiner, Liao and Kurita are far larger targets, for both of them. Honestly, I'm more intrigued by the CTA offering bodyguard services to all the successor lords. I'm surprised Davion and Steiner accepted, and I'm wondering what is so exceptional about their service that The Fox would compromise his security like that."

"You're not actually thinking of taking them up on the offer?"

"Of course not. But I do wonder."

….

"The strike is set for the third day, yes?"

"Yes."

"Good."

((()))

AN: This chapter was written in bits and pieces over a _very_ long time. Finally finished, doggone it, and I can move into the final plot arc of this 'book' of Cameron's Legacy.


	7. Chapter 6

AN: Coming to the end of the story, or at least this 'book' of it. I have other projects I intend to spend time on before I start working on the plot arc dealing with the clans, which will probably be a _massive_ story; Stackpole did it in three novels, I'll probably do it in something at least vaguely comparable. More or less, I'm not entirely sure, but it definitely won't be _short_.

AN: 2: For those of you whose threads I usually track, I've been absent lately because of spending so much time on this. You should see me around again starting tonight.

((()))

Chapter 6: War in Heaven,

Or, Death Isn't Funny.

((()))

February, 3028

Imperial City, Luthien

Secured Room, Unity Palace

"_Five regiments of Aerospace Fighters_," Takashi Kurita half said, half growled, "It would be cheaper to send ten regiments of Battlemechs!"

A statement which was, Theodore Kurita silently reflected as his face remained entirely impassive, only barely true. Aerospace Fighters were just over twice as expensive as the equivalent weight of Battlemechs, one of the primary reasons that Battlemechs remained the predominant force on the battlefield, but were also more combat effective by weight in any combat environment save for urban or mountainous. The greater combat effectiveness was nowhere near sufficient to justify the cost, but ASF were still necessary, as allowing your foes aerospace superiority with anything more than a handful of fighters was tantamount to tactical suicide.

Theodore had requisitioned the ASF wings of more than a dozen regiments, something around ten percent of the Combine's total ASF strength, and something Takashi had _not_ been expecting. Takashi was a traditionalist, and like most traditionalists, he did not react well to the unexpected, especially coming from his alienated son.

"Coordinator-dono," Theodore asked with precisely measured respect in his voice, "The wedding is to occur aboard a Jumpship, in an unihabited system, with no Terrestrial worlds. There would be little purpose in an escort comprised of infantry, armor, or battlemechs. The CTA are well-known for their advanced Aerospace Fighters, and it would do little good for me to bring an inconsequential measure of force to bear against that. I admit, however, that I am of course nowhere near as well informed regarding the greater needs of the Combine as yourself, and will make do with whatever apportionment you see fit to permit me."

Even with the sop Theodore had just given to his father's ego, by the end of their meeting, it was apparent to him that if their meeting had not been held in private, Takashi would still have denied his son the requested forces, purely to assert his authority and ego in front of others. As it was, it was still a near thing.

((()))

February, 3028

Forbidden City, Sian

Throne Room, Celestial Palace.

"So, Justin Xiang," Maximillian Liao said, "I cannot ignore this invitation in its entirety, at least so long as 'peace' persists, but what do you think The Fox will do?"

"I cannot state The Fox's intentions for certain, Excellency," Justin said, "However, I can lay strong suspicion on two different courses of action."

"Please elaborate," Maximillian said with an air of generosity.

"Of course, Chancellor," Justin said, "The primary determining factors that our agents within the Federated Suns, Draconis Combine, and Lyran Commonwealth have been able to uncover, are as follows:

"First, The Wolf Dragoon's contract with the Draconis Combine is coming to completion, and Hanse Davion has spent a great deal of money on securing their services when it expires. We have been able to determine that the Dragoons contact _will_ carry their standard clause regarding not fighting with their prior contractors. Also, the Wolf Spiders appear to be signing on with the Lyran Commonwealth, bringing the entirety of Wolf's combat strength into the Steiner-Davion axis.

"Second, while Lyran forces have been concentrating closer to Terra, the AFFS has not been observed making similar movements.

"Third, as you already know, Hanse Davion and Melissa Steiner's wedding is to be located near Terra, which would justify some of this force concentration, especially considering the Silver Eagle incident, if our reports regarding the Combine's abduction attempt are true.

"Fourth, the ongoing intelligence warfare between MIIO, Loki, and Comstar's ROM, as well as Comstar's declaration of increasing the numbers of the Comguard.

"Fifth, and perhaps most importantly, the CTA's offering of some of its soldiers as bodyguards, particularly in relation to the Wedding that they will be hosting.

"All of these factors combined could, when combined with other datum, lead to any number of conclusions, but I believe I have discerned the most likely course of action on the part of Hanse Davion. Most probably, he will use both the Dragoons and the Lyran force concentration around Terra to serve as a deterrent against adventurism directed at the Wedding. After that is completed, he will commence a build-up aimed at conquering the worlds surrounding Terra, and perhaps Terra itself, if he feels particularly ambitious, to unify the Lyran Commonwealth and the Federated Suns territorially."

"Indeed," Maximillian said, leaning back on his throne and stroking his beard, "This is consistent with my own understanding of The Fox's stratagems. I will now lay before you two issues, the handling of which must be conjoined. The first, is how to respond to, and who to send, to this wedding invitation of his. The second, is how to respond to the threat of attack upon our worlds near Terra."

"As you may expect from your primary intelligence analysts," Justin said with a bow, "We have anticipated these questions, your excellency, and prepared responses."

Tsen Shang stepped forward and bowed swiftly before addressing the Chancellor.

"My compatriot," He said, "Favors one plan, while I favor another. In Xiang's plan, our forces would be withdrawn from four out of five of the worlds that we expect Davion to target, and concentrated on the fifth. This would result in token garissons succumbing to easy conquest early in a conflict, but at little real military loss, while Davion's forces attacking the more heavily fortified worlds would face crushing defeats. Further, we would have lost little force, while Davion's soldiers would be tied up in protracted, and costly, fighting within the League and the Combine. Once a suitable time had past, and Davion had committed his reinforcements to the continuing fighting on Combine and League worlds, we would initiate counter-attacks, claiming the territory lost, and as possible re-taking worlds lost to the Suns in decades past.

"My own plan, Excellency, is rather more aggressive, involving the immediate deployment of the Warrior Houses to our worlds near Terra, both to serve as escort for those sent to the wedding, and a strong warning against Davion's aggression. The most likely result, would be Davion focusing his expansionist efforts upon the Combine, and the Lyrans upon the League, while only directing sufficient attacks upon us to discourage adventurism while he deals with less immediately-formidable adversaries."

"The weakness perceived in this plan," Xiang said, "Is the possibility that Davion may instead choose to focus primarily upon the Warrior Houses, and concentrate enough force to destroy them, robbing us both of a large amount of force, and most of our elite formations."

"While the weakness perceived in Xiang's plan," Sheng said, "Is first the loss of face when a number of worlds are lost nearly uncontested in the first phase of war, and second the potential for reversal should Davion discover our troop movements in sufficient time to shift the weight of his own assaults."

"And how would you propose we respond to Davion's wedding invitation, with these plans?" The Chancellor asked.

"In my plan," Xiang said, "We would send an emissary in your place, perhaps one of your daughters, so as not to appear weak, while simultaneously not placing your own person in direct peril while surrounded by high enemy force concentrations. A heavy escort would also be necessary for the party attending the wedding, due to the lack of immediately available reinforcements."

"In my plan," Sheng said, "You yourself would attend, escorted by one of the Warrior Houses, bringing as much strength as possible within the three-dropship limit as a show of strength."

Maximillian Liao leaned back on his throne, and stroked his beard for some time as he considered the options presented by both of them.

"We shall utilize Sheng's plan," The Chancellor decreed, "Save for one difference. I shall send my daughters, rather than myself, and the both of you to accompany them. I have _other_ affairs to attend to."

((()))

March, 3028

Forbidden City, Sian

Undisclosed location, Undercity.

"They have agreed to support us?" Romano Liao demanded, glaring at the rather sallow man in the uniform of the Maskirovka.

"Yes, Avatar," The man said, bowing deeply, "They will move on the third day."

"Excellent..." A mad smile slid across the face of Romano, second daughter of the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation.

((()))

April, 3028

Imperial City, Luthien

Secured Room, Unity Palace

"We may, perchance, have uncovered the information you seek," Subhash Indrahar stated calmly.

"Providence would appear to be with us," Theodore replied, "What have you discovered?"

"Records of a covert assault from a century ago," Subhash said, "Orders for an attack on the world of Caph."

"Was that not the world where Battlemechs were first invented?" Theodore asked, "I seem to recall it retreating from the Inner Sphere at large after the Second Succession War left it mostly a wasteland."

"Indeed," Indrahar said, passing a file to Theodore, "Or so it was thought. Considering the activities of the CTA since then, this may be what you were looking for."

Five minutes into reading the file, Theodore was all but certain he had discovered the origins of the CTA; by the time he finished it, he _was_ certain.

"I believe," He said to Indrahar once he was finished, "That we will need to carry more firepower than normal with us into this potential battle."

((()))

August 3rd, 3028

System XXLI, near Terra

Apex Jump Point.

With a multi-dimensional flash of light, the full range and intensity of which was beyond human comprehension, an AFFS Jumpship appeared. Once the jump field faded, and reality stopped protesting its rules being broken, it launched a trio of Dropships, one of which contained the First Prince of the Federated Suns, and the Archon-Designate of the Lyran Commonwealth.

"So why did they call the planet 'Onion?'" Melissa asked, as she looked out a 'window' showing a video feed from the Dropship's bow.

"I gather it has something to do with its multi-layered atmosphere, and onion-brown color," Isaiah said from behind her, "Once we're close enough, you'll be able to see for yourself."

"Mm," Melissa said, glancing over at Isaiah before returning her attention to the starfield in front of her, "So I'll finally get to meet the legendary 'Granny Ivo?'"

"Indeed," Isaiah said, "But as I've said-"

"She's _energetic_," Melissa replied, rolling her eyes, "Don't worry, I'm sure I can handle a youthful old lady."

"If you say so," Isaiah said, "But I _did_ warn you."

((()))

August 10th, 3028

System XXLI

CSS _Calvin Joliet,_ Orbit of 'Onion.'

"Oh, she's so _cute!_"

This was all the warning Melissa Steiner received before she was engulfed in a suffocating hug; _literally_ suffocating, she _couldn't breathe._

"Granny," Isaiah said calmly as he peeled Amanda Ivo's arms away from the slightly-smaller Steiner, "Please do not suffocate the bride. I suspect it would rather ruin the ceremony."

"Spoilsport," Amanda pouted, before turning her attention back to the gasping Archon-Designate, who beheld the Ivo Matriarch with some shock.

Amanda Ivo could _very_ easily have been mistaken for being no older than Melissa herself, late teens, _maybe_ early twenties. She was a somewhat short woman, with absurdly long dark hair coiled into a braid that was wrapped around her neck more times than Melissa could readily count. About the only indicator of age Melissa could find was the shape of the woman's hips after closer inspection.

Melissa's inspection of Amanda had been returned, and the older woman had _many_ more years of experience to rely on, something that became impossible for Melissa to miss when the two looked each other in the eye.

"Oh," Amanda said, "You'll do _just fine_. Now come along, I'll show you where us woman-folk are setting up camp, so we can start planning."

"Ah," Melissa said, "Planning what?"

"Why, your bachelorette party, of course!"

((()))

_Calvin Joliet, _Amanda Ivo's Quarters.

"Um," Melissa said as she half walked, half was dragged into a set of... _creatively_ decorated quarters.

"Here," Amanda said, tugging the much younger woman over to a beanbag, "Have a seat."

"...Okay?" Melissa said, seating herself carefully, rather surprised at how self-conscious she felt around the older woman, especially as she had somehow managed to drag her into the odd room without any of her bodyguards following in.

Amanda busied herself with some sort of stainless steel contraption that Melissa was not familiar with, so she took the time to study the cabin in some detail. The floor was covered in _thick_ shag carpet, colored a deep red, and the walls and ceiling were paneled with a bizarre mismatch of different woods, fitting together more like randomly cut puzzle pieces than any thing with rhyme or reason, an impression reinforced by how rough the sections were. The cabin didn't possess a room so much as a pit, formed out of what was either a water or air mattress, edged by beanbags, and covered with a chaotic array of blankets and pillows. Above the bed-pit, was an array of electronics on a servo-mount, that looked like it was designed to raise or lower to suit its user's whims.

Aside from that, there were a few miscellaneous beanbags, a modest table and kitchenette, a door that appeared to lead to a bathroom, a bookshelf occupying one entire wall, what looked like one knicknack from every world in the Inner Sphere, and probably the Periphery too, and pictures. _Lots_ of pictures, of what Melissa suspected was the entire extended Ivo clan. There were _hundreds_ of them. In truth, it was probably the largest cabin she had ever seen aboard a jump-capable vessel, but the sheer amount of _stuff_ in it, made the place feel cramped.

_No,_ Melissa thought, _not 'cramped.' Cozy._

Then Amanda passed her a steaming mug of what smelled like Hot Chocolate, then sat down across on a bean bag in front of her, with her own mug.

"So," Amanda said, "Now that we're all situated, let's talk."

"About a 'Bachelorette Party'?" Melissa asked dubiously.

"That too," Amanda said, "But first let's talk about _you_. I understand you especially requested Isaiah for your guard detail?"

"Yes," Melissa said, taking a sip of her hot chocolate, then smiling, "This is good."

"It'd better be," Amanda smirked, "I've been developing that blend and the machine I 'brew' it with for over a hundred years. You probably picked Isaiah out because he'd made a good impression after you were picked up at The Rock?"

"He helped me a great deal," Melissa said quietly, "That was a very hard time for me."

"It's always hard," Amanda said, reaching out to lay a hand on Melissa's knee, "The first time you see death. It was two hundred years ago for me, and I can still remember the first time I saw death with horrible clarity."

Melissa shivered as the older woman's words resonated with parts of her heart that were still healing, and the Ivo matriarch gracefully slipped across to seat herself beside Melissa, and wrap an arm around her shoulder.

"Death was never meant to be a part of this world," Amanda said softly, rubbing Melissa's shoulder soothingly, "And it's a tragedy every time it rears its ugly head."

Melissa nodded, fighting back tears as she remembered all the men and women who had died protecting her on the rock, and the Kuritan soldiers who had died trying to abduct her. Her heart ached for those who had died to protecting her, but she still felt sick when she thought of the deaths of her would-be abductors as well.

"Did anyone ever tell you the story of my first husband?" Amanda asked softly.

"Not much," Melissa said, her voice trembling setting her cup aside so that she could wipe at her eyes, "But I did hear he died defending your Duke's family."

"Oh, Melissa dear," Amanda said, "That was only the beginning. I met Cameron Ivo when I was twelve years old, and he was twenty-two, at a celebratory party on the preeminent University on Caph at that time. It was March 12th, 2842. I'm still not sure whether or not I really noticed him during the main part of the party itself, but I _definitely_ noticed him when the party was attacked by ROM operatives from Comstar. They attacked the building, both where the party was taking place, and the research data they were celebrating was stored, sending in operatives to make sure that they got all the research data, and that nobody had survived. _Nobody, _including myself and the other children, some of whom were barely three years old.

"Some of my memories of that night are what you'd expect, blurry, warped by emotion, I was a terrified twelve-year-old girl, in shock after having just watched my parents get shot as we were leaving. I ran, a lot, and eventually wound up trying to hide in a server room, where Cameron Ivo and the corpse of his older sister were. Some of the ROM team, who were dressed up like Maskirovka operatives, came after me, one of them was planning on raping me. Cameron was an enormous man, seven feet and two inches tall, and he was also extremely fit. I was too hysterical to see _how_ he killed those men, but I know he was unarmed, so it was probably pretty brutal.

"The Blakists set a bomb in the facility, to clean up anything they missed; I was mostly incoherent at that point, but I read Cameron's report to the police about what he did years later. Cameron built an improvised blast-shelter out of armored servers, then tore the guts out of one, and tucked us away inside of it. One thing I _do_ still remember, is that he wrapped himself around me even inside of that. That's the kind of man my Cameron was, putting his life on the line, to give the greatest protection he could, even then.

"He took custody of me after that, mostly because at first I would panic every time he left my sight, and dropped his plans to leave the planet and join the AFFS, and took care of me for the next four years, long enough to make sure I could take care of myself, and I wasn't having panic attacks whenever I was left alone. Child Services tried to intervene, but the Duke stepped in personally to grant Cameron custody after he saw how he treated me.

"Then Cameron went off and joined ROM, and spent the next nineteen years gathering every scrap of information on what Comstar was doing, why, and salvaging as much of the research data from throughout the Inner Sphere that they were destroying as he could."

Amanda paused for a moment, her countenance troubled.

"I don't think some of the things he did on raids for ROM were right. I know _he_ didn't think they were right. It wasn't until I nearly died during complications from my fourth pregnancy that I managed to get him to open up emotionally and start dealing with his guilt and self-loathing."

"I don't understand," Melissa said softly, "What did he do?"

"He joined the same division that had attacked that party on Caph," Amanda said grimly, "Rho division. Then he went out into the field and did whatever they told him to. Operation Holy Shroud was completed, so nothing was as horrific as _that_ attack, but he killed innocent people, and more than just a few. I had to drug him in order to keep him from setting himself off on a suicide mission when everything was said and done, and Caph had successfully withdrawn from the Inner Sphere.

"He killed people. A _lot_ of people, that did _not_ deserve to die, and I _know_ that he saw his older sister in every single one of those people he killed. It wasn't right, part of me has tried to justify it, on and off, for one hundred and fifty years, but it just _wasn't_ right. On the other hand, _all_ of what Caph has been able to do has been a direct result of what he did then. Part of me says that there is another way that we could have gotten here, but at this point it's impossible to know what it is, and the past is the past. Learn from it, and move on.

"After I kept him from leaving Caph, before we went into seclusion, I more or less dragged him to the altar, and we married, and started the Ivo clan. I had nine children in four pregnancies."

Melissa's eyes widened considerably at _that_ revelation.

"I shocked a lot of people with how aggressively I used fertility medication and treatments," Melissa said with a melancholy smile, "I started a cultural trend on Caph that never completely died, towards larger families. It's why we've had to start our own colonies in the Periphery, there are a _lot_ of Caph-ites. Back onto the topic though.

"My husband spent most of the rest of his life as a stay-at-home dad, sidelining some work for the Duke's intelligence and security divisions. He was an _excellent_ father, patient but firm, affectionate, and the biggest mobile jungle-gym a pack of kids could ask for.

"One hundred and forty-seven years ago, and one month, almost to the day, when Elizabeth and Cameron Junior were only fourteen years old, a group of Luddite terrorists attacked the Duke's compound. They killed some of the Gustafson family, including shooting the Duke's youngest son in front of his wife and child, in cold blood. Cameron was getting old, and before our telomere therapies were developed, giants had considerably shortened lifespans, but he had kept his skills from his ROM days sharp.

"Cameron tore the arms off of the woman who shot the Duke's son, taking a number of bullet wounds before he took them off, then beat her subordinates to death with what was left of the woman. He died in my arms, while his children watched. He told me he Loved me, and then his last words were that he had always wanted to die protecting somebody."

Amanda stopped talking, and silence reigned in the cabin for some time, while the two women finished off their now not-so-hot chocolate. Once they were both finished, Amanda collected their mugs, then dropped them off in the kitchenette's sink. On her way back, she retrieved a set of brass knuckles, set with gems, from her pocket, and held it out to Melissa before sitting beside her again.

"These are the Ivo family knuckles," She said, "This," She pointed to the largest, central diamond of the three present, "Is the carbon-diamond compressed from Cameron's ashes. The other two are also from family members who died protecting another's life. There are more Ivos who died in such a way, but their remains were kept by their immediate family, rather than added to these. Using these knuckles, I killed a man attempting a coup on Caph decades ago.

"This is the story of Cameron Ivo, my first husband, and the most famous man on Caph to this day."

Melissa handed the knuckles back to Amanda, unsure of what to say.

"I carry these with me always," Amanda said, tucking her chin into her knees, voice betraying an emotional vulnerability that surprised Melissa, "To help me remember what we're fighting for. Freedom from Tyranny."

Silence passed between the two women for a long time, Amanda lost in reminiscence, Melissa uncertain of how to respond to the older woman's tale, before eventually deciding to return the comfort she had been offered earlier with a hug of her own.

"I don't really know what to say," Melissa eventually said softly, "All of this is so far beyond anything I've experienced."

"I know," Amanda said quietly, returning the younger woman's hug, "That's why I'm sharing it with you. You're going to marry soon, and have at _least_ one child if you are at all physically capable of doing so. Most people I try to give pre-marital advice to, my own experience with Cameron was far more extreme than anything they'd likely experience. You though, one of the consequences of your marriage will be the creation of the largest socio-political entity in the Inner Sphere. _Anything_ could happen to you, your husband, and your soon-to-be children. It's important, before you marry, to know why you are marrying, what you want, what you're willing to give, and the same about your groom. My first husband wanted to end the threat ROM, and Comstar in general presented to Caph, and now you know what he went through to accomplish that. I want the same thing, and you've some idea of what I've been willing to do to accomplish the same."

Melissa nodded, and they sat together for a long time, in silent contemplation and companionship.

((()))

Captain's Quarters, _Calvin Joliet_.

"Sooo," Hanse said, his alcohol-impaired tongue dragging the word out, "Yer sayin' the secret is in the listenin'?"

"Yeah," Cameron said morosely, staring down at a picture of his wife, "See, you're like me, you're a _problem solver_. You hear about somethin' bad happenin', yer first instinct is ta go out and _fix_ it. Wives though, they don't just want the problem solved. First, they wan' you to listen to them, not jus' to unnerstand what the problem is, but to do so in a way that makes it clear that you _care_ about how the probblem is 'fectin them 'motionally."

"Doesn't fixing the probrem show you care?" Hanse asked, more than a little confused.

"Yeah," Cameron said, "But mos' women won't care 'bout that unless they already know ya care. Still not entirely sure _why_, but thas' how it is."

"Hafta 'member that," Hanse said, nodding gravely, "'ll keep an eye on 'lissa for stuff like that."

((()))

Amanda Ivo's cabin, _Calvin Joliet_.

A knock sounded on the hatch, interrupting Melissa's impromptu lesson in a card game called 'Dutch Blitz,'

"Ah," Amanda said, standing and moving to the hatch, "That should be Amalinda."

"Amalinda?" Melissa asked curiously.

Amanda opened the hatch, revealing a tiny young woman who bore a _very_ distinct resemblance to Amanda, enough that the two could be mistaken for each other, if not for the different lengths of hair, and fact that they were standing right next to each other.

"Amalinda," Amanda said, "This is Melissa Steiner. Melissa, this is my youngest daughter, Amalinda."

"Pleased to meet you," Melissa said graciously as she stood and approached the older woman.

"I'm happy to meet you too!" Amalinda said energetically, and promptly bounced up to Melissa to wrap the taller woman in a hug, massive smile on her face, "Will you play with me?"

"Certainly," Melissa said, slightly confused, but seeing no reason not to, "What would you like to play?"

"I've been teaching Melissa Dutch Blitz," Amanda chipped in, "You can join us, Amalinda."

((()))

Some time later, Amanda and Melissa were speaking quietly, while Amalinda slept in the room's bed-pit.

"Before you ask," Amanda said quietly, "She's not younger than she looks. She's learning and development disabled. Amalinda was born in 2871, the last of Cameron and I's children, and due to complications suffered from some oxygen deprivation, resulting in brain damage. It's been a very, _very_ slow development for her, she's functionally twelve years old as far as mental maturity goes, but as a result of how I've been raising her for the last one hundred and fifty years, she's probably the most mature twelve year old you've ever known, and is incredibly well informed about anything that's ever piqued her curiosity."

"She's very... bright," Melissa said, "I don't think I've ever seen a smile like that on anyone older than eight."

"I know," Amanda said with a maternal smile, "I've jealously guarded that brightness for a very long time now. She makes a point of cheering me up whenever she sees me down."

"I'm guessing you probably introduced me to her on purpose?" Melissa asked.

Amanda nodded.

"Probably to show me both what can be, with a child, and as a warning about how things don't always go the way we would like or expect, right?" Melissa asked.

Amanda nodded again, smiling.

"Marriage and motherhood are both dynamic things, because people change," Amanda said softly, reaching out to lay a hand on Melissa's shoulder companionably, "A lot of being a good wife, and a good mother, is in recognizing what you should and shouldn't try to influence or control, be deliberate about how you are changing as a person, and being prepared for the kinds of things you're getting into."

"This isn't the kind of thing that shows up often in romance novels," Melissa said with a wry smile.

"That's because most romance novels are trashy things, basically emotional pornography for girls," Amanda said, with sudden bite that surprised Melissa, "Dramatic 'destined' relationships, or people who have 'love at first sight,' or 'just click together.' No mention of personality and living-habit clashes. No mention of conflict management and resolution. No mention of _sacrificing_ for those you Love, because real people _don't_ always want the same things. There's no more substance in most 'romance' stories than there is in the visual pornography that sells to men."

"That's... quite the opinion," Melissa said softly.

"I appreciate your diplomatic way of putting it," Amanda said, visibly forcing herself to not raise her voice while her daughter slept, "But it's not opinion, it's _fact_. I've watched hundreds of romances and marriages either endure, or fail. And every girl I met who believed in star-crossed lovers and crap like that either quickly was disabused of those ideas, or had their relationship fall to pieces. I'd probably be a lot less pissed at the blowhards who write those bullshit novels if the men and women who buy into that crap only hurt themselves, but so many of them go and have _children_. You're a smart girl, I'm sure you can imagine what happens to children raised in a house where their parents hate each other."

Melissa shuddered and nodded.

"Enough of this grim talk though," Amanda said, shaking off her dark mood with startling ease, "You're not that kind of stupid, and you're not too proud to ask for advice. Unless Hanse is a complete jerk, you should be just fine. And if he is, I'm sure my son is beating that out of him as we speak."

((()))

"You know," Cameron said, "I've got more than a hundred years of experience on you. You should _not_ be beating me at Chess."

Hanse just grinned.

((()))

August 11th, 3028

System XXLI, near Terra

Bridge of the _CSS_ _Calvin Joliet_

"Claire," Cameron Ivo Jr said as he entered the bridge, "As the Captain, I'm afraid it is my grim duty to impart upon you a perilous mission."

"Let me guess," Claire said dryly, "Grandma wants to talk to me, so she can try to cram me into a bride's maid's dress."

"Entirely possible," Cameron said, "It's also distinctly possible that my mother wants to introduce you to Hanse Davion's groomsmen. I understand some of them are single."

The bridge became very, _very_ quiet, and Cameron carefully floated himself out of Claire's ways. No words were said as she silently propelled herself through the primary hatch, and then moved off towards the nearest elevator.

"Sir?" The Junior Lieutenant at the helm, who had caught sight of Claire's face before she left, asked, "Is that what death looks like?"

((()))

_Calvin Joliet_, Amanda Ivo's quarters.

The hatch to Amanda's quarters did not so much 'open' as 'forcefully leave the path of Claire Ivo.'

"GRANDMA!" Claire screamed, stunning Melissa with how her voice managed to seem even larger than the woman's six foot seven inch frame, "I HEAR YOU'VE BEEN TRYING TO SET ME UP AGAIN!"

"Oh?" Amanda said, standing up and striding cockily towards her much-larger granddaughter, "Has my eldest son been loose with his words again?"

Melissa was rather startled when Amalinda took hold of her 'round the waist, and dragged her over to the bathroom.

"Shhh," Amalinda whispered, "Aunty Claire can be scary."

Melissa was inclined to agree, as 'Claire' was not only the largest woman she had ever seen, but also the _angriest_. She was literally _frothing at the mouth_ with rage, gesticulating wildly at her grandmother as incomprehensible half-words poured out of her mouth.

"Claire," Amanda said with too-perfect sincerity, "Do I need to spank you?"

With that, Claire's temper truly snapped, and she lunged at the older and smaller woman. It wasn't a sloppy lunge either, but a well-balanced attempt to sweep Amanda into a crushing bear-hug; Amanda's evasion of the move, slipping down and to Claire's left, was even more well-executed. Claire twisted into a sweeping kick, but Amanda ducked beneath that as well, then swept Claire's other leg from beneath her, before bouncing back away from the larger woman.

Claire rolled to her feet, then dropped into a low stance, that even Melissa could tell was oriented around balance, and began to advance on her grandmother, barely-checked rage fueling a punishing barrage of punches that were too swift for the Archon-Designate to make out as more than blurs. Apparently Amanda did not suffer from the same problem, as she managed to either slip around, or deftly deflect, every single punch, even as Claire's swifter advance brought her further and further into Amanda's guard.

Then Amanda stomped on Claire's instep, fouling her balance. Melissa couldn't really tell what happened next, but the results of it were impossible to miss, as the larger Ivo woman went soaring halfway across the room to smash head first into the wall, knocking her senseless.

"Melissa!" Amanda said cheerily as she turned to face the bathroom, "Allow me to introduce my grand-daughter, Claire Matilda Ivo."

"Ah," Melissa said, "One of the livelier members of your family?"

"Oh, not hardly," Amanda said dismissively, "She's usually one of the cooler cucumbers, but gets wound up whenever I try to find her a man."

"Isn't she somewhere over a hundred years old?" Melissa asked.

"Yes," Amanda said, "And she's _still_ single. I require great-grandchildren!"

Amalinda giggled.

((()))

_Calvin Joliet_, Bridge.

"So," Cameron said, cutting the feed from the security camera in his mother's quarters, "Do you think that's the face of death?"

"Er," The louie Helmsman said, "I think at this point, I'm more scared of your mother."

"Well," The Sensor Officer said, "You'd better grow a spine quick. It looks like the Liao contingent just jumped in, and Romano Liao's aboard. She's creepy as hell, and _dangerous_, so you'd better be on the ball."

((()))

August 18th, 3028.

System XXLI, near Terra.

CSS _Calvin Joliet_, Orbit of 'Onion.'

Security aboard _Calvin Joliet_-class vessels was always very tight; a much easier proposition aboard a space-faring vessel that never dropped below the Karnak line than for any other vessel or installation. It functioned in three tiers; the outer oriented around access to the ship's outermost compartments, where the primary industrial processing and storage took place; it was the area most open to other personnel, as all of a CJ's commercial activity was conducted through these compartments. Access was still always restricted, however, due to the classified nature of the vessel's armaments, as well as the life support modules and other critical systems housed in this region. The weakness in this layer of security existed primarily in the sheer amount of traffic it had to monitor, and allow through, in order for the ship's primary commercial function to be served.

The second layer of security was centered around the grav decks, particularly vital as all of the ship's crew lived in 'The Can' as it was sometimes called, due to its cylindrical shape. Security here was much more robust, primarily due to its layered nature; each grav deck rotated at a different speed, and the elevator system linking them was, consequentially, rather complex in application. A human guard, rather than a simple security camera, stood at every level of every elevator shaft, and a Core Security officer checked and approved each elevator transit from level to level. The weakness of this layer of security existed primarily in the amount of manpower required to maintain such a thorough watch, and how this demand was met. Every adult who lived aboard ship as 'staff' rather than 'crew' was required to serve a four-hour watch once per week at the elevators; the highly dynamic nature of scheduling made it nearly impossible to man enough traitors to cause a catastrophic security breach, but at the same time, made it nearly impossible to prevent _all_ security breaches.

The third, final, and most intensive layer of security, protected the ship's core. The mode by which it existed was very simple; only people on The List were granted access. Only items on The List were allowed within. Core Security, the highest paying position aboard ship after the Captain and Chief Engineer, lived on the innermost grav-deck, just outside of the Core, and did not move outside of their habitation deck for the duration of their one-year tour with Core Security.

No security, however, was infallible, either against dumb luck, or sheer determination. Fools tend to possess the one, and fanatics the other. Unfortunately for the _Calvin Joliet_, her crew, and her high-ranking passengers, the Thugee cultists acting on the orders of Romano Liao were both deeply foolish, and comprehensively fanatical.

They bribed a single lift guard to 'take a walk' during ship's 'night,' then cracked the security codes for that lift access, and infiltrated a single agent into the shaft, equipped with tactical camouflage. That Thugee agent spent the next eighteen hours locating and compromising every camera inside of the shaft, while dodging the elevators within; a task made considerably more difficult by the fact that a number of the cameras were located _on_ said elevators. He was aided in this task by the fact that the Core Security agent monitoring the shaft was rather stressed by the increased workload the wedding had brought, and was paying more attention to what was happening _in_ the elevators, than what was happening without.

This accomplished, another guard took a 'walk,' though for a _considerably _larger sum this time, and the cultist who had worked the shaft was retrieved, and replaced by a team of three, carrying no small amount of equipment, both brought with them, and acquired aboard ship. Once within, they disassembled, reassembled, and reconfigured assorted pieces of body armor, glassware, and 'private' clothing, into a chemical processing construct, and began rendering down and recombining various cleaning agents and rubbers into a powerful chemical explosive. Once this task was completed, they used the explosive compound, the plating from their personal body armor, and a variety of electronics, to construct a powerful shaped charge.

Which was then placed on the exterior of the _Calvin Joliet's_ core hull, and after a moment of praise to Kali, the Hindu goddess of death, the three sent a broad-burst communication to their superiors, then detonated the bomb while they stood directly beside it.

((()))

The moment that the Thugee's message was received, orders were given aboard the _Luminarious, _and the Dropship's engines were fired at full blast. This was _intended_ to cut a hole into the ship, which the Capellan Battlemechs aboard the Dropship would then use to fight their way into the _Calvin Joliet's_ bowels. The Capellan's plan, however, had not counted for the fact that the CJ was built to handle Warship-scale combat, from the ground up, and its hull was both incredibly thick, and incredibly durable.

Dropship engines, their housing, and the hull immediately around them, was designed to handle incredible amounts of stress for centuries of service, the harshest stresses being encountered during take-off and landing, when much of the heat and force of their thrust was being reflected back at them by the surface they were landing on. So long as these periods were brief, no damage would be done; as the _Luminarious'_ docking clamps were still engaged, and the _C__alvin Joliet's_ armor did _not_ give away quickly, the time of exposure was anything but brief.

The Dropship captain _briefly_ considered deactivating his ship's engines, but then remembered just _who_ was in command of this operation, and instead ordered his engineer to red-line them. Within sixty seconds of activation, the massive fusion engines had overheated beyond the critical point, and detonated in a catastrophic containment failure. The explosion blew a hole the rest of the way through the _Calvin Joliet's_ already eroded hull, and incinerated the bottom half of the _Luminarious_, sending the rest of the Dropship spiraling off into space.

Unfortunately, this also left a _large_ hole in the hull for the _other _five Liao and Marik Dropships to attempt to board their Battlemechs through.

It was about then that the Comstar Warships started jumping into the system.

((()))

"What the _hell_ happened?" Cameron Ivo demanded as he 'stormed' onto the _Calvin Joliet's_ bridge as best as anyone in zero-g can.

"Someone," Commander Claire, his XO, said, "Detonated an explosive of some kind on the surface of the Core. Almost certainly the Capellans, though possibly the Leaguers. One of the Capellan Dropships, the _Luminarious_ tried to cut through the hull with its engines, blew its engines up in the process, destroying half the Dropship, and punching through the loading doors with the explosion. Capellan and League Battlemechs are moving towards the breach now, and the Prince Davion is asking permission for the Lyran and Suns vessels to be allowed to release their own Battlemechs."

"Grant it," Ivo said, "But they are not to move more than fifty meters from their own ships unless they are attacked. What about the Kuritans?"

"Nothing yet, sir," Claire said, "The-oh _shit_."

Cameron's gaze rose sharply; his daughter _never_ swore without reason. Very _strong_ reasons.

"Someone just jumped a fleet of Warships into the Apex jump point," Claire said, her tone utterly flat, "They aren't running IFF, but at least half of them match the emissions signature of the Blakist fleet we have intel on from the _Montpelier's_ Captain."

"Full Battlestations," Cameron barked, "Keep the Capital weaponry in reserve, but run _everything_ else out, and tell Davion he can have the run of the ship's hull so long as he coordinates with our own forces."

"Yes sir."

Cameron then 'sat' in his Captain's chair, and punched up a call-order to communicate with Caph's home fleet.

((()))

On the hull of the _Calvin Joliet_, weapons emplacements usually intended to serve as anti-ASF defenses emerged from beneath armored plates, and began to fire on the five battalions of Liao and Marik Batttlemechs that were making their way across the hull towards the hole the _Luminarious_ had created. Although heavily armored, these emplacements suffered the fate of all fixed positions in modern warfare; annihilation as soon as viable targeting solutions could be found, which did not take long at all.

What these emplacements _did_ accomplish, was hold the attacking Battlemechs in place long enough for the _Calvin Joliet's_ Combat Air Patrol to return, and the ready-five squadron to be launched. While further shipboard military assets were scrambled, CTA ASF assets began strafing the Battlemechs moving across the surface of the _Calvin Joliet's_ hull, further slowing their advance, not to mention inflicting heavy damage with laser weapons operating from beyond what was thought to be maximum effective range.

Unfortunately, they did not buy _enough_ time, and League mechs reached the compromised docking ring before CTA mechs were in place to defend from within.

((()))

When Theodore Kurita and his entourage reached the _Dragon's Fang_, both his own security, and the CTA guards that had been escorting him, were _very_ pleased. Kurita himself was more pleased when he arrived at the Dropship's flag bridge, and was filled in on the tactical situation.

"We will withdraw to the Nadir jump point immediately," Theodore declared, "We will have no part of a battle between Warships."

"Warships," One of his entourage, Tomoe Sakade, asked, "Plural?"

"The CTA have possessed the ability to construct Jumpships for over a century," Theodore said simply, "If Comstar possesses Warships, the CTA must as well. If not, the imbalance of power would have destroyed one force long since."

"Sir," The Dropship's captain said once Theodore stopped speaking, "The _Calvin Joliet's_ captain has given us clearance to undock, and the docking clamps have been released."

"Let us depart then," Theodore said.

((()))

The vessels that had arrived at the Apex jump point were, in fact, Comstar Warships, and they were under orders to seize control of the _Calvin Joliet_, with the vessel as intact as possible, regardless of cost. To best effect such orders, they were accelerating towards the gas giant the _CJ_ at maximum sustainable accelleration. The system's star being unusually small, combined with the higher rate of acceleration, meant they would enter combat range in just short of eighteen hours.

Across the surface of the _Calvin Joliet's_ hull, Battlemechs exchanged fire, the CTA, LCAF, and AFFS forces quickly discovering that the FWLM and CCAF Overlords had been overloaded by nearly fifty percent, and were carrying _nothing_ but Assault mechs. The turrets around that section of the hull did not last long, and though the ASF fire harrowing the attackers wore them down, it was not enough to stop them from pouring into the _Calvin Joliet's_ interior. Heavy weapons fire began to flash back and forth within the massive ship's industrial modules through the hole in its port hull.

Along the vessel's starboard hull, Steiner and Davion Battlemechs fought against scarcely half their number, but nearly their weight, of Marik war machines, in what was rapidly becoming clear was little more than a delaying action. The collective Aerospace assets of every house except for the Kuritas, who did not launch, rapidly engaged in mutual fratricide, with the far stronger CTA ASF presence bringing total dominance to themselves and the Steiner/Davion air wings within ten minutes of the conflict's beginning, but by that time, a full regiment had already entered the _Joliet_'s hull.

((()))

"That's a lot of metal," Cameron said as he stared down at the tactical plot.

"Ten million tons, sir," His XO said, "About half our gross weight, and roughly four times our firepower."

"Much less firepower at long range though," Cameron said, "Have they launched strike craft yet?"

"No sir," Claire said, "They have launched Dropships though, and it looks like the _Potemkin_ had a full load."

"Shit," Cameron said, then turned towards the _Joliet's_ helmsman, "Pull us into a lower orbit, I want you to build speed for the fastest, lowest orbit you can, timed so that we'll come out of the planet's shadow with optimal timing to cut across that fleet's engagement envelope as quickly as possible. Start crunching the numbers."

"Sir," The helmsman nodded, and set about his business.

"Any coherent response from Caph STIC yet?" Cameron asked, turning to face the communications officer.

"Nothing from the admiralty," She said, "But the ship captains are scrambling for the nearest jump points; we should be able to see a task-group level response force within eight hours, a fleet level force within twenty."

"Good enough," Cameron said, nodding sharply, "It looks like the balance will be made by strike craft, which means it's time to declare Case Plaid." He turned to Claire again, "Now what's the situation with our VIP's?"

((()))

"Get _down_ Princess," Isaiah snarled, but the Archon-Designate stubbornly held her position, and kept firing.

Isaiah had, in the time he had known Melissa Steiner, come to the conclusion that she had learned from her experiences on The Rock; currently he was wishing she had learned _different_ lessons. The instant that the deck had trembled, and the alarms had begun to sound, Isaiah had stormed into the young woman's quarters to see to her safety. As the attack had occurred during ship's 'night,' Melissa had only been wearing her undergarments; fortunately Tharkad was a cold world, and her undergarments, while skin-tight, were still reasonably modest, so there had been no embarrassment involved as the two Lyran guardswomen who had been stationed _inside_ her quarters had stuffed her efficiently into her new body-armor in front of the large Ivo.

The upside to Melissa's learning experience, her (_very expensive_) body-armor, and the laser carbine she was wielding with considerable proficiency, was that the Archon-Designate was nearly as combat-effective as her bodyguards. The _downside_ was that she wouldn't _stay behind cover_ and let her bodyguards _guard her body_. Her body-armor, literally the most advanced hardware that Caph's manufacturers fielded, was functionally completely proof against the needler weapons that most of the Liao fanatics attacking them carried, but _some_ of them were also using laser weapons, something that _could_ hurt the young woman, with enough concentrated fire or a lucky shot.

About the only thing keeping a stress-related heart attack from being a more dangerous threat to Isaiah then the nutjobs _shooting_ at him, was the fact that in her armor Melissa was functionally indistinguishable from any of the women in her protective detail, and the Liao operatives _couldn't_ concentrate their firepower. He suspected that they believed the Archon-designate was within the inner chambers of her quarters, otherwise they would have at least been focusing fire on the female members of the group. Also, part of what Melissa had learned was the importance of _cover_, and made a habit of exposing nothing more than the top half of her helmet and the barrel of her gun when she fired from behind the overturned steel table she and Isaiah were tucked away behind.

A half-second stream of laser fire from one of the Thugee assassins struck the surface of the table directly behind Isaiah, heat bleeding through to his armor, and then his back, scalding him slightly, and he decided it was time for him to take another few potshots at the enemy himself. After a quick check of the _CJ's_ security cameras with his HUD, Isaiah popped up and opened fire with his personal weapon of choice for the third time since the Liao attack on the Archon-Designate's quarters had begun.

A screaming stream of white-hot flames leapt from the barrel of his flamer, dousing two of the Thugee in flames, and catching the arm of a third on fire, before the weapon's compression chamber emptied and Isaiah ducked behind cover again. As counter-fire from the Thugee intensified, and another of the Lyran guards took a shot through her armor, Isaiah silently cursed the fact that it was a group of fanatics _obsessed with death_ attacking; any _sane_ unit would have given up the assault when faced with a flamer in enclosed quarters long since.

((()))

"Candace," Justin said flatly, "Your sister is an _idiot_."

"I would hardly disagree," Candace Liao said wryly as she peeked around the corner, to observe the ongoing firefight between her sister's fanatical minions, equipped with needlers, unreliable-but-overpowered laser pistols, and light body-armor, and the CTA and Lyran guards, equipped with needlers, laser carbines, slugthrowers with armor-piercing rounds, and a _flamer_.

It was not hard to see where such a fight was going, and Candace was resigned to either a very short life, or one spent in captivity, as a result of her sister's stupidity. The fact that one of the Thugee might get lucky, and actually injure or kill the Archon-Designate, just made things worse, as if Hanse Davion's bride _was_ killed, Candace had little doubt that The Fox would not relent until the Capellan Confederation was utterly ruined.

Not to mention she, herself, would either have a very short life, or spend the rest of it in captivity.

"I'm afraid, beloved," She said, backing away from the corner to embrace Justin gently, "That you will very soon stand trial for treason. I don't suppose you know of some secret means of escape from this predicament?"

"Perhaps," Justin said with an odd smile, one that Candace had not seen on the Intelligence agent's face before, "But its ability to function, will depend on how much you are willing to trust me."

"Oh?" Candace said, her eyebrows raising in surprise, "A little trust? Is that all?"

"Not quite," Just said, a touch of grimness entering his voice, "I'm afraid your sister's life would also be forfeit."

"While I mourn her death," Candace said sadly, "She has been more a rival, then enemy, to me, since she was sixteen, and is quite plainly mad now. She is already dead; do what you must."

"Very well then," Justin said, then gently pried Candace away from him, and strolled around the corner towards the Thugee, and their mad mistress, "Follow my lead."

((()))

Janos Marik and his entourage were headed towards the _Calvin Joliet's_ HPG, weapons drawn. There had been more than thirty of them; now there were less than a dozen, and a number of dead CTA security personnel littered their path.

Unfortunately for them, they reached the point where their path intersected with that of Amanda Ivo. Unlike the _CJ's_ on-duty security teams, Amanda _had_ been able to take the time to armor up for heavy combat, and the heavy power armor she was wearing increased her slight profile to something roughly equivalent to an average-sized man of occidental descent. Her armor had also been specially designed to incorporate a certain pair of brass knuckles on the left hand.

The Engineer who had created the design had thought it was wastefully expensive; Amanda had thought it entirely necessary.

After the first volley of shredder flechettes shattered or bounced off of the thick alloy to no effect, the FWLM team decided it was just bad news. Two amongst them were carrying heavy weapons, which had been painstakingly reconstructed from broken-down components, and were loaded with AP and HE rounds; in the closed quarters of the grav-deck's internal passages, men of their skill level were functionally incapable of missing. Two shots were fired into Amanda Ivo's chest, and she went down.

Then she got back up.

"I've spent my whole life fighting treacherous shits like you," She growled through her armor's external speakers, which had been specifically configured to produce ominous metallic overtones, "But this'll only be the fifth time I've done it on a battlefield."

Then she _moved_, and proved that the most expensive set of body-armor ever built on Caph was entirely worth it. The first two Leaguers drew knives and attempted to stab the joints of her armor as she rushed them; they were _very briefly_ shocked to discover that she was, in fact, both faster _and_ more agile than them while in armored form. After their moment of shock, they were dead, as an armored snap-kick crushed one's rib cage directly over the first man's heart, and the second's temple was punctured by three carbon diamonds, sending bone fragments through his brain.

For a moment, Amanda considered picking up one of the downed men's shredder pistols, or a knife, but decided that her _point_ would be better made with her armored fists.

The pair of Leaguers with the heavy weapons decided to attempt to dissuade her, and opened fire again, but this time Amanda had braced herself, and the impacts merely rocked her back. Four more men died, flechettes, knives, and blood scattering wildly about, before they managed to reload the reconstructed weapons, and they were forced to hold their fire as Amanda utilized her augmented strength to employ one of the Marik soldiers as a human shield. The first gunman was able to fire when she hurled her shield at the second, striking Amanda directly in the visor of her helmet, but the round failed to even jar her head substantially through her massively over-engineered armor.

Her fist made a much more permanent impression on his throat. She _did_ decided it was worthwhile to snag his gun as the man collapsed, his neck snapped, and proceeded to beat the rest of Janos Marik's guards to death with the weapon, smashing it beyond repair in the process.

Marik himself spent the time attempting to stab her in the back; aiming for the back of the knees, the shoulders, the neck, but he was old, and even a man as strong as her long-dead husband would have been hard-pressed to muster the force necessary to pierce even the weakest points on her armor.

_Amanda's_ strength, however, augmented by the myomer musculature of her armor, was more than enough to haul up one old man by the scruff of his shirt, and crush the hand holding his knife.

"Janos Marik," She growled, "I've got a few _questions_ for you, and you're going to _answer_ them. Whether you like it, or not."

((()))

"Horse poop," Jessica Langtry calmly declared, as the _Calvin Joliet_ abruptly began accelerating, and hers, as well as every other mech fighting through the _CJ's_ Number Two Ore Refinery lost footing as 'down' abruptly decided to exist again.

The _Calvin Joliet_ was only putting out half a gravity of acceleration, but the utter lack of any _other_ form of gravity within the vessel and outside of its gravdecks, resulted in a massive pile up of Battlemechs against the module walls, all but a handful having either fallen dozens of meters, or had a mech _fall_ dozens of meters to land on them. All of the war machines, CCAF, FWLM, and CAF, were assault-weight, particularly unsuited to surviving such falls without damage; the Caph-built Assault Mechs, however, _all_ were built with jump-jets, and the pilots were rigorously trained in their use. Still, given the short distances involved, not all of the Mechwarriors could react in time, and only a third of the CAF machines had their falls cushioned by judicious jump-jet usage.

That still left them in _far_ better shape than the attacking mechs, and putting down the survivors was nothing more than mop-up work, something Colonel Jessica Langtry and her subordinates took great pleasure in. All throughout the _CJ_'s other compromised compartments, the scenario repeated itself, and the boarders were rapidly repulsed. Along the exterior hull, the situation was little different, with every last Mechwarrior discovering that their mech's magnetized feet, were nowhere near magnetized enough to keep them on the hull in half Terran-standard gravity.

This would have resulted in a great number of mechs sent into loose orbit around Onion, but the declaration of Case Plaid to the CAF pilots changed the picture considerably. Over the course of a half-dozen seconds, every Caph-built Battlemech reconfigured itself into an Aerospace Fighter, and then commenced search and destroy, and search and rescue missions, regarding the CCAF, FWLM, LCAF, and AFFS mechs now largely stranded in space.

The words 'turkey shoot' were mentioned.

((()))

"Ivo," Hanse shouted, "You magnificent bastard! Your _entire_ Battlemech arm is comprised of _Land-__Air Mechs!_"

"Actually," Ivo said, directing _The Grin_ at the First Prince of the Federated Suns through their video call, "It would be more accurate to say that our ASF and Battlemech arms are _the same thing_."

"How the hell can you afford that?" Hanse demanded, "Especially with _Assault-weight_ LAM's? Even the Star League never fielded _Heavy_ LAM's, much less Assault-weight!"

"Ah, Prince Davion," Cameron said with a faintly chiding tone, "You forget, the Battlemech was _invented _on Caph. We have a fairly good idea of how to work these things. As to expense, we pay about five times what you would pay for an _Atlas_, for a single _Mjolnir-_class LAM. Once you factor in the relative industrialization, relative wealth per-capita and GDP ratios between Caph and the Fed Suns, we pay more like two and a half times, then once you factor in the enhanced combat effectiveness and simplified logistics chain, we're looking at a little under twice the cost. Oh, and we don't build anything smaller than one hundred tons."

"I'm not even going to ask why," Hanse said, with some disgust, "Do you have any word on Melissa yet?"

"Ah," Cameron said, "About that, I need your assistance on a little situation regarding the Capellans and your bride-to-be."

((()))

_Well_, Justin thought to himself as gravity abruptly shifted around him, _I can work with this too._

He was five meters away from the junction the Thugee, Romano Liao, and Tsen Shang had taken cover behind when the abrupt shift hit, and a number of them were knocked off their feet. Justin, a seasoned mechwarrior, was more than accustomed to keeping his feet despite harsh impacts, and instead took the opportunity to burst into an uphill sprint, bringing up his cybernetic arm as he did so, before bringing it _down_ on one of the Thugee's skulls.

Steel alloy had a lot less give to it than skin, sinew, and bone knuckles; the human skull had the same amount of give as ever. Twisting his momentum into a spin before the Thugee could fully realize they were under attack, Justin laid an ax-kick into the next one's neck, before deliberately tumbling to the ground, and bringing up his cybernetic arm again.

This time, instead of being used as a blunt-force weapon, the hand snapped up and back, leaving the wrist exposed, as a blunt muzzle leapt out, and two streams of coherent light leapt out, skewering first Romano Liao through the chest, then winging a Thugee in the shoulder, which of course just pissed the woman off. That might have been bad for Justin, considering the woman was armed, and Justin himself had just drained his arm-laser's small power cell dry, but Candace opening fire with her needler pistol nicely obviated that little problem.

Which only left Tsen Shang, who was too occupied with Romano Liao's body to prevent Justin from roundly clocking him over the head, knocking him unconscious. Leaving Justin alone with some two-dozen corpses, several of them still on fire.

"Oy!" He called around the corner, as Candace moved up behind him, "Now that the idiots are dead, we'd like to surrender!"

((()))

Isaiah turned to look at the ranking Lyran guardswoman. It was more an instinctual gesture than anything else, as they shared an encrypted comm channel, and their sealed full-face helmets made it impossible to read facial expressions. Still, it was enough for her to nod that he should take the initiative on this matter, so he activated his helmet's external speaker.

"Who's surrendering?" He demanded.

"Justin Xiang," The voice called out, "And Candace Liao. If it's not too much trouble could you contact Quintus Allard or Hanse Davion and tell them I've got word?"

"The First Prince of the Federated Suns," Isaiah replied flatly.

"Yes," Justin replied, "_That_ Hanse Davion. I'd say at this point that my cover is pretty much done for."

((()))

"Your _cover?_" Candace whispered to Justin incredulously, "Do you really expect them to buy that?"

"Well," Justin said, a little awkwardly, "Seeing as how you're armed, and I'm not, this would be the best time for me to tell you two things. First, I love you-"

Candace blushed slightly at his words, as he unknowingly filled a rather ridiculous adolescent romantic dream she'd held regarding star-crossed lovers together in a desperate situation on a battlefield.

"Second," Justin continued, "I expect them to buy that because I'm telling the _truth_. This whole affair, ever since Hasek-Davion set his treacherous eyes upon me, has been one big, long infiltration mission.

Candace blush faded to confusion, as she attempted to wrap her mind around the sheer magnitude of what Justin was saying.

"So," Justin continued, "Considering that the Capellan Confederation will soon be under the concerted attack of both the Federated Suns, and every mercenary in the Inner Sphere that will take the CTA's money, please, _please_ think very carefully about what decisions you make about the opportunities you will be given in the next few hours."

((()))

"You see," Cameron Ivo said, "Apparently one of the Capellans up and killed the rest of their strike team, including Romano Liao, then surrendered. Man by the name of Justin Xiang, along with one Candace Liao, claims you'd be willing to speak with him."

"Oh," Hanse said, raising an eyebrow, "I suppose his cover's been blown then. He's one of mine, so I'd be much obliged if you'd hand him over."

"Well," Cameron said, surprise etched across his face, "I must admit, I didn't see _that_ one coming. I don't suppose Candace Liao was one of your operatives too?"

"No," Hanse said, trying desperately, and _almost_ succeeding in hiding his satisfaction in pulling one over on a man a hundred years his senior, "But I rather suspect Justin's swiped her loyalties away from her father. I suppose I'd better ask for her as well."

"How about this," Cameron said, "We'll move the two of them, and Melissa to Gravdeck one, and you and I can meet up there as well so that we can all have a chat."

"I'd have thought you'd rather stay on the bridge," Hanse said, "What with the Comstar fleet on its way."

"No need," Cameron said, waving his hand airily, "My XO is quite capable of dealing with such nuisances. I'll see you in twenty then?"

"Agreed."

((()))

Twenty minutes later, Amanda Ivo (who had arrived drunk with Katrina Steiner), Cameron Ivo Junior, Candace Liao (not junior), Hanse Davion, Isaiah Ivo, Justin Xiang/Allard, Katrina Steiner (who had arrived completely drunk out of her mind with Amanda Ivo), Melissa Steiner, and Quintus Allard were all gathered on Gravdeck one, the first non-CTA personnel aboard that deck in decades, with a handful of attendants, to talk about the situation.

There was some confusion, at first, about who held the authority to call the meeting to order, but Cameron, as ship's captain, decided to take the matter into his own hands, and (after fending off his mother's latest attempt to stroke his hair) successfully drew things to order.

"So," Cameron said, "Comstar's fleet is some seventeen hours from firing range, masses half of what we do, can punch three or more times our acceleration, and has roughly four times our firepower, Aerospace assets not-withstanding. Reinforcements from Caph are moving to jump positions, but we only had a single frigate on station to jump immediately, and it'll be more than seven hours before a reasonably sized detachment can move in. Under the circumstances, I cannot make a reasonable guarantee of safety for those aboard ship, and we specifically selected this planet, in this system, for its lack of NSJ's, that's Non-Standard Jump-points, or Pirate Points, to those not familiar with the term, around the Gas Giant, due to the heavy system clutter.

"We have two Union's docked at the bow rings, which could put out enough acceleration to outrun the Comstar Warships, and take you to one of the NSJ's around the next planet out for pickup, but because Comstar has not yet revealed the strength of their ASF contingent, I can't guarantee a strong enough escort to protect you if you break away from the _CJ_. In short, do you want to ride the fight out, or try to run?"

"I'm rather unclear here," Candace said, "On the point of fleeing for a Pirate Point, unless you already have a Jumpship stationed there?"

"Case Plaid," Cameron said, waving his hand dismissively, "It's time for the CTA to reveal some of our true capacities. Most of our manned Jumpships are equipped with Lithium-Ion batteries, which allow for a second jump immediately after the first, as soon as we rotate the Jump-core coolant, a process that can take anywhere from two hours to twenty minutes. Star League was just implementing them before it folded."

"Ah," Candace said, "I see."

"You said that the Comstar fleet is packing somewhere in the order of four times your firepower," Hanse said, "That implies that the _Calvin Joliet_ is armed with capital-class weaponry."

"Indeed," Cameron said, "_Calvin Joliet-_class Industrial Ships have three hundred and twenty Naval Laser fifty-fives built into concealed turrets along the vertices of their hulls. For those of you not familiar, they're extreme range heavy lasers; we've upgraded them a fair bit, of course, since the _CJ_ was launched, but that's mostly had to do with increasing their effective maximum range; nobody has really done much to develop hardware that can take the strain of a higher power output on the naval scale, so no real damage increase. We're going to have a hell of a range advantage on them, except for their capital-class missile launchers."

"The danger being potential nuclear loads," Quintus Allard said.

"NOOK-YOU-LEEEERRR!" Katrina helpfully slurred, and Amanda giggled, before making another attempt at petting Cameron's hair.

"Yes, mother," Melissa said gently, before pulling her inebriated parent back down into her seat, and handing her a large bottle of water one of the attendants had retrieved, "Now drink up."

Katrina did as she was told, and the others redirected their attention to matters at hand, though Amanda kept trying to pet her eldest son's hair.

"Yes," Cameron said, "The danger being nuclear payloads. Nothing can beat a powered missile's range, but even if they launch in proper volleys, we'll swat them all out of the air with ASF and point-defense weapons. The real danger depends upon the size of their ASF contingent, and how they use it. If they outnumber us strongly, _and_ use their strike craft to cover their missiles until they close, we could be in deep shit."

"While I can appreciate the general concepts," Hanse Davion said, "None of us have any experience with naval combat. Which do you think gives the better odds, staying aboard, or running?"

"Staying aboard," Cameron said without hesitation, "Until we know their ASF strength, we can't know if it's even _possible_ for us to send an adequate escort force with you, much less detach one. And if we strip too much away from the _CJ_, the ship is pretty much doomed."

"Then we stay," Hanse said, glancing at the sloshed Archon for a moment, before looking directly at Melissa, "You'll have to make the call for your mother, since she's in no shape to do so herself."

"We stay," Melissa said firmly, "I'll not leave the people of this ship with anything less than the best protection available. If I had the skill, I'd go out there myself."

"Agreed," Justin Allard said, "If _Yen-Lo-Wang_ hadn't gone up with the _Luminarious_, I'd crawl out on the hull to lend defensive fire."

((()))

Over the next fifteen hours, time seemed to crawl by. The Comstar commander continued to hold his strike craft in reserve, while building velocity towards Onion, and the orbiting _Calvin Joliet_. Meanwhile, the _CJ'_s helmsman built up a truly tremendous orbital speed, thrusting 'down' into Onion's gravity well in order to develop as much breakaway velocity as possible when the time came.

Some light years away, the relief fleet continued to muster in the Caph system, ships accumulating around the precisely-charted jump points throughout the system. The entire process was held up for nearly an hour, by the exchange of assault dropships, for carrier dropships, but the exchange was considered worth it both by the admiralty, and by those aboard the _Calvin Joliet_.

The final element in system, the trio of DCMS Dropships, spent the entire time burning towards the Nadir Jump-point at a single gravity, and was 'reinforced' by a quintet of Jumpships arriving at said Jump-point, though they simply remained on station and waited. Both the Comstar commander, and Captain Ivo, wrote them off as irrelevant to the coming engagement, so long as nothing changed.

((()))

August 19th, Onion System

En-route to Nadir Jump Point

"I am officially authorizing the deployment of nuclear arms to our Aerospace Fighters," Theodore Kurita informed the _Tai-sa_ on his comm screen, "_All_ of them."

"_Hai_, Kurita-_sama_," The man responded crisply; Theodore saluted in response, then closed the channel.

"A precaution?" Tomoe Sakade asked quietly, "Or do you intend to throw the Combine into this conflict?"

"I have not yet decided," Theodore said, "But there was no fear in Cameron Ivo's eyes when I spoke with him. He sees a possibility of victory, and I wish to see where it comes from."

((()))

Eventually, with no discernible warning that the _CJ's_ crew and passengers could detect, the Comstar fleet launched its strike craft.

It launched a great _deal_ of strike craft.

Over one thousand, five hundred strike craft.

Jessica Langtry, studying the sensor feeds being relayed to her LAM, which was clinging to the _CJ's _hull, had only one thought for the situation; 'horse-poop.'

The _Calvin Joliet_, with all of its LAM's configured to flight mode, with the support of the Lyran and Suns ASF's, made up less than seven hundred strike craft, even if they averaged a heavier weight. Caph-built war machines would possess longer effective range, greater armor protection, and marginally more firepower than the Comstar fighter craft, but aerospace combat was the single place where all of these things mattered the least, as for all of Caph's technological advantages, they had _not_ found a way to nullify inertia. This meant that the maneuverability limits on each fighter would be determined by the g-forces that its pilot could manage without blacking out.

For once, the officers of the CAF found themselves regretting their neglect of missile technology, as unless Comstar had also developed more advanced E-war capabilities (unlikely), they would most likely have been able to make up a great deal of the numerical difference with missile spam. The CTA's predilection for more cost-efficient energy weapons, however, was now showing its downside, as CAF strike craft were facing their first engagement where they were legitimately outnumbered.

The officers of the _Calvin Joliet, _however, had not been idle over the last century, and had developed _plans_ for how to exploit the advantages they _did_ have, all of which were centered around a single, unifying tenet:

When it comes to war, _cheat like hell_.

((()))

"Amanda," Katrina Steiner growled, "I am _never_ letting you get me drunk on a Jumpship again."

"Oh," Amanda Ivo said, "Don't be such a baby; learn how to hold your liquor!"

Her message was rather undermined when the next thing out of her mouth was a mass of vomit, which fortunately was directed into a barf bag, which was already half-full. Amanda was some two hundred years old, but even for her, being massively hung-over in zero-g was a new experience. At this point, she was actually enjoying it for the sheer novelty of a genuinely new experience after two hundred years.

Katrina Steiner was mostly just trying not to throw up; zero-g did _not_ agree with her stomach while she was hung over. Which for her, was quite the surprise; usually, her stomach (and liver) was as iron before the onslaught of alcohol. She would much rather be in the bathroom, with the sink and toilet ready at hand for their respective uses, but combat protocol required her, as a non-combatant, to be strapped into a crash harness, so she was. It felt very strange to the Archon, to be neither in a cockpit, nor the command center during a conflict.

"Well," She quietly mused, "You learn something new every day."

"What was that?" Amanda asked once she had finished her latest bout of retching.

"Nothing," Katrina said, "What's this son of yours plan for getting us out of this crapshoot anyways?"

"It's as much my grand-daughter's plan as my son's, knowing those two," Amand said with a slightly green smirk, "And it mostly involves shooting at the bad guys until they die."

((()))

"Open fire," Captain Cameron Ivo commanded crisply as the _Calvin Joliet_ orbited into view of the Comstar fleet for the last time.

"Open fire," Commander Clair Ivo relayed crisply.

"Firing," The weapons officer reported.

All across the hull of the _Calvin Joliet, _three hundred and twenty armored hatches were blasted clear of the hull by charges that had awaited this purpose for nearly one hundred years. Two hundred and eighty of the revealed fifty-five-rated Naval Lasers opened fire on the incoming Comstar fleet, firing from nearly twice the Comstar fleet's maximum effective range. Of the roughly fifty Comstar Assault Dropships moving with thee fleet, forty were targeted, each receiving an amount of attention appropriate to its mass and durability. The Comstar fleet had been moving in a flat, ballistic course the entire time, their course not varying by so much as a single meter, and the _Calvin Joliet's_ laser weapons targeted the firing ports of weapons, portholes on those dropships that had them, and other structural weakpoints, with absolute precision.

A few of the beams were distorted minutely by particulate matter in their path, striking the armored hull instead of the intended weak-points, but Dropships were never meant to stand up to naval weaponry anyways. Every single Dropship was destroyed, many of them vaporized as their own fusion engines detonated.

"Coming up on breakaway point," The _CJ's_ Helmsman declared.

"Initiate as planned," Cameron ordered.

"Initiating in ten... five... three, two, one, _breakaway_."

The _Calvin Joliet, _which had been thrusting forward and downward to maintain its speed and orbit, abruptly pitched upwards, the sudden acceleration causing small pockets of chaos throughout the ship, the powered its engines up to full burn. The amount of thrust required to provide a four and a half kilometer long ship with two gravities of acceleration was immense, and _Calvin Joliet-_class Industrial Ships mounted the largest fusion drives ever built. At the time of launch, it would have taken days to prepare the ship for higher acceleration, but technology had marched on in the century since, and it had only taken twelve hours for Claire Ivo to direct the lockdown of the gravdecks and other miscellany. The enlarged drive plume of the _Calvin Joliet _was visible to the naked eye from tens of thousands of kilometers away, and completely impossible for the Comstar fleet to miss.

Something that Cameron was counting on, as his ship broke orbit of Onion and began hurtling towards the Nadir Jump-point.

"Weapons cycled," The weapons officer declared.

"Fire," Cameron said flatly, and a second barrage of coherent light lashed out, this time targeting a single one of the two _Aegis-_class cruisers that represented a disproportionately large percentage of the Comstar fleet's firepower.

The Comstar Admiral was no fool, however, and his fleet was maneuvering now. It was not enough to prevent the _CJ's_ lasers from striking her target, but it _was_ enough to keep her lasers from seeking out weak points in the Warship's thick armor, preventing the _Righteous Fury_ from being destroyed outright. It did not, however, get off lightly, the massive salvo of lasers vaporizing armor all across its prow and port flank, then chewing into its internals. Weapons were slagged, compartments depressurized, crewers killed, and the armored bulkheads around the engine room were very nearly penetrated. Nearly half the vessel's weapons were damaged or destroyed,and its frame was warped by the heat the lasers imparted.

The Captain of the _Righteous Fury _gritted his teeth, then calmly ordered the ship to roll and present its other broadside to the _Calvin Joliet._

Then, before the CAF ship's weapons could cycle again, the opposing forces tremendous velocities brought the Comstar fleet into _its_ weapon range. Comstar's own naval lasers, as well as Heavy NPPC's, Medium NPPC's, and NAC-10's, all opened up on the _Calvin Joliet_. Almost all were firing from the extremes of their effective ranges, but the _CJ_ was too massive to manage much in the way of evasive maneuvers, and while the Comstar war-fleet did not posses targeting hardware and software anywhere _near_ as advanced as Caph did, their gunners were highly skilled, and they managed nearly 50% accuracy.

Which was when the Caph Armed Forces revealed their second trick, the slaved weapons systems of the Dropships and LAM's attached to her hull acting as an improvised point-defense system, and smacking the ballistic projectiles of the NAC-10's off course, and leaving only the lasers and PPC's to strike the _Joliet's_ hull.

The _Calvin Joliet's_ extremely _heavily armored_ hull, which soaked the damage to no noticeable effect upon the ship, aside from a slight tremor. What was _on_ the hull, however, did not get off quite so easily, a handful of LAM's being caught by NL or NPPC fire, and more or less obliterated instantly. Two point-defense weapon mounts were also destroyed, though few even noticed.

The _CJ's_ weapons finished cycling, and a third salvo struck the Comstar fleet, for a second time targeting the _Righteous Fury_, chewing through her port armor, weapons systems, compartments, and structural members. Again, the barrage failed to destroy the Cruiser, but so much of its armament was obliterated, armor destroyed, and structural integrity lost, that it was effectively out of the fight, as marked by its Captain dropping the vessel out of formation.

For less than half a minute, the two forces closed into what was considered 'close' range by naval standards in the Inner Sphere, and all hell broke loose. Every weapon in the Blakists arsenal opened up, Autocannons, Lasers, Particle Projector Cannons, and Capital Missiles. Again, the CAF's targeting and weapon links allowed them to divert the Autocannon fire, but at this range, more than ninety percent of the weapons fire struck home.

Hellish energies blistered across the Calvin Joliet's dorsal structure, savaging its immense armor plates, scrapping almost three dozen point-defense weapons, _five_ dozen of the attached LAM's, scuttling one of the docked Dropships along its port hull (a Liao vessel, fortunately), and crippling or destroying eleven of the Naval Laser turrets along its vertices.

After the energy barrage struck, the LAM's detached themselves and launched, to meet the oncoming capital missiles, which were being escorted in under lower acceleration by the Comstar ASF's. Eight seconds passed between the CAF LAM's launching from the _Calvin Joliet's_ hull, and interpenetration of the two swarms of strike craft, moving at prohibitively fast speeds relative to each other. A significant fraction of the sharper CAF pilots managed to take advantage of their longer effective range to fire two volleys, rather than one, but the weapons exchange was still surprisingly bloodless.

The Comstar pilots tripled up on their targets, massed fire bearing down on the CAF strike craft; high speed, and maneuverability eroded accuracy, however, resulting in barely over 30% accuracy. This low accuracy, combined with Comstar's more average spread of ASF weight-classes weighed against the CAF's pure deployment of 100-tonners, there were surprisingly few destroyed or mission-killed CAF war machines, though there was a great deal of armor damage.

The CAF, AFFS, and LCAF weapons fire, however, was almost purely focused upon the sixty-one capital-class missiles bearing down upon the _Calvin Joliet_, _every single one of which_ was emitting radiation appropriate to a nuclear payload. Of the sixty-one missiles, forty-five were struck down by the defending strike craft, and fourteen more were destroyed by the _CJ's _own point-defense weapons, leaving two to strike her dorsal hull.

The CJ was trying to roll, but it simply was too massive to maneuver in time, leaving its already-damaged surface vulnerable. One of the missiles struck a virgin section of the hull, and its detonation did little more than heavily irradiate and heat the hull, eroding its strength, but failing to penetrate. The second missile, however, struck one of the mutilated sections of armor, and tore the fore quarter of the dorsal hull to shreds, blasting shrapnel and radiation into the _Joliet's_ number three hangar bay, while the pressure wave propagated through to shatter the modular compartment walls, gutting all of the neighboring compartments and damaging the ship's structural frame, as well as several key power conduits.

Due to the damaged power conduits, the _Joliet's_ answering salvo was another thirteen guns light, leaving only two hundred and fifty-six NL-55's to answer the Comstar fleet's ruinous barrage. Two hundred and fifty-six naval lasers, however proved to be more than enough, as the Comstar fleet had concerned itself more with optimizing their own offensive fire, rather than maneuvering to best protect against the _Calvin Joliet's_, and the _Sure Justice_, the second _Aegis-class_ Cruiser in the Comstar fleet, took a half-dozen beams through its engine compartments, before disappearing in a flash of nuclear fury.

One final weapons exchange occurred before the two forces blitzed out of each other's range, though the _Calvin Joliet _had managed to roll by this point. With the hull cleared of LAM's, the salvo did little but chew up the _CJ's_ heavy armor, and slag a single point-defense mount. The _Joliet's_ return fire, however, tore up the aft section of the _Strength Through Adversity_, nearly causing the Frigate's engines to overload. The _Lola-III-_class Frigate was forced to shut her primary fusion drives down, effectively removing her from the fight.

Then the two forces were away from each other, with time to assess damage, and prepare for their next clash.

((()))

"We'll be able to route power to the downed NL's," Claire said quietly, "It should take six hours or so. There's no way we can fabricate something large enough to cover the hull breach quickly enough to make a difference in this engagement though."

"About what I expected," Cameron said with a nod, "I'm just glad we made it off so lightly as far as fatalities are concerned."

Aside from a few casualties caused by concussive force, the _Calvin Joliet's_ crew had gotten off incredibly lightly, not exactly surprising considering that every man, woman, and child, had been evacuated into the inner layers of the grav sphere. Cameron had no doubt that it was the lightest casualty count of any vessel that had ever had its hull breached by a nuclear weapon, and was pretty much entirely the result of the sheer size of the vessel.

"So what's the bad news?" Cameron asked.

"Our LAM's detected small-scale nuclear weapons on a number of the Comguard ASF's when the two forces interpenetrated," Claire said, "Nothing that our AMS can't deal with, but if they clear out the point-defense on a large enough section of the hull, suicide strike, or manage to maneuver into the breach on the dorsal hull..."

"It'll get ugly," Cameron summarized, "I need to speak with the Royals again."

((()))

Amongst the Comstar fleet, things were a mixture between grim, and satisfied. Slingshoting around Onion would require them to burn a lot of momentum, but it was better than having to decelerate, then re-accelerate from scratch, and while the Blakist _capital_ _ships_ would be unable to re-enter engagement range before the _Calvin Joliet_ reached the Nadir jump point, but their strike craft, and double handful of dropships, would be able to make the range.

The relative acceleration and velocity being what it was, they would make the range only an hour short of the Jump-point, as Jumpships did not actually need to _stop_ in order to jump, and thus the _Joliet_ did not need to decelerate. One hour, however, was more than enough time to cripple or destroy the massive Industrial Ship, now that its hull had been holed.

((()))

"I believe," Theodore Kurita said, "It is time to cast our lot in this affair. Launch the Fighters."

((()))

"And that's about the size of it," Cameron finished, looking from Candace, to Hanse, to Katrina, to Melissa, "We can have a ship pick you up at the Jump-point, but that's-"

"Captain!" Claire's voice came abruptly, and sharply, through the comm, "The Draconis fleet has launched ASFs, over five hundred of them! They're on an intercept course, set to reach us at roughly the same time as the Comguard detachment!"

"Well," Cameron said, searching for a moment for words to adequately express himself, "Crap."

"I take it then," Katrina Steiner said quietly, "That the only way out of this then, is the hard way?"

"That would be a yes," Cameron said, "Unless Theodore decided it was time to throw in on our side of the fight. But not tell us. Hold on," He activated the comm, "Claire, any transmissions between the Combine fleet and the Comguard fleet detected?"

"No sir," Claire said, "We're not picking up anything from them at _all. _They have to be using comm lasers to communicate, or else we'd be getting _something_. Orders?"

"Rebalance the strike craft," Cameron said, some fatigue beginning to show in his voice, "time until engagement?"

"Eleven hours, sir," Claire said.

"Alright then," Cameron said, "Break out the sleeping pills, I want the first watch getting eight hours before we re-engage. Arrange something for the pilots as best you can as well."

"Aye-aye sir," Claire said, then cut the channel.

"Well," Hanse said wryly, "Looks like now would be the time for mounting up, and crawling our Battlemechs out onto the ship's hull."

"Considering that a nuclear detonation_ inside_ of the hull is more or less guaranteed to, at a minimum, cripple the Jump Drive," Cameron said, "That's probably not a bad idea, for everyone in this room who _isn't_ royalty. Including myself. And mom."

"And why not me?" Amanda demanded.

"Because," Cameron said shortly, "While you _technically _qualify as 'mech pilot, you're not much of one, and beyond that, you didn't bring your mech _with_."

"You're so cute when you're irritated," Amanda said, smiling fondly at her son.

((()))

For some, time seemed to crawl interminably, for others, it seemed to fly by far too quickly. Every Steiner and Davion mech still functional entered the breached landing bay, and made the difficult climb up to the dorsal hull in double gravity, though they waited until three hours before the Comguard strike craft would overtake them to do so.

It wasn't going to be a pretty battle. The CTA forces were vastly outnumbered, and most of the LAM's had already taken damage. The Comguard pilots had been riding first on their dropships at two g's, then in their cockpit at more than three, for nearly a full day by the time they caught up. Adrenaline and stimulants could make up some of the difference, but there was no way to compensate fully. Those aboard the _Calvin Joliet_ had been able to rest, but they were still suffering under the weight of higher gravity, and not at their best. Only the DCMS pilots were reasonably rested, both because they had launched last, and because they were only accelerating at roughly one gravity, both to prevent strain, and due to the intended timing of their intercept.

Hours passed, and as the _Calvin Joliet_ closed with the Kuritan ASF's, her sensors began to detect the radiation emitted by the Kuritan's nuclear payload. At that point, the entirety of the _CJ's_ non-combat personnel were packed into the ship's core, and innermost ring, which were armored, to offer the best protection possible against nuclear attack. And Cameron Ivo spent the rest of the time before contact was made, attempting to make contact with the Kuritan ASF wing, as preemptive action would become _necessary_ if they posed a nuclear threat.

When he received his response, his face shaped itself into _The Grin._

((()))

"I hate this kind of waiting," Admiral Dipak Vishram declared, "Makes me feel like I'm sitting on my ass, watching people die."

He and his Chief of Staff, Tomas Stump, were watching the engagement over live FTL link from the _Calvin Joliet _in the Admiral's day cabin aboard the _CSS Heavy Metal_, and their inability to act yet was driving Dipak _nuts_.

"I'd offer to help you get drunk, sir," Stump said, "But it's less than six hours until time for us to jump."

"I should have joined the Army," Dipak grumbled, beginning a rant Stump had heard _many _times before, "Much more straightforward. See enemy, _shoot_ enemy."

Stump waited out his CO's rant with the patience of long experience.

((()))

Roughly five minutes before the pursuing Comguard ASF's entered their own weapon's range relative to the _Calvin Joliet_, the Industrial Ship's capital-class lasers opened fire on the smaller ships. Many salvos were fired, but less than two dozen Comguard strike craft were destroyed, due to Comguard defensive maneuvering, and the difficulty inherent to targeting strike craft with capital-class weapons.

In the final sixty seconds before interpenetration, the DCMS Strike Craft engaged maximum thrust, moving from under one gravity of acceleration, to roughly five gravities. The difference in expected acceleration resulted in the Kuritan ASF's bursting past the _Calvin Joliet_ and her escorts less than two seconds before they entered weapons range with the Comguard strike forces. The Kuritan ASF's opened fire with every weapon in their arsenals, concentrating fire on the lighter Comguard craft, and destroying more than two hundred of them.

Due to their relative velocities, the Kuritan ASF's swept past the Comguard vessels before they could even _begin_ to return fire, bearing down upon the trailing Comguard fleet, which was now stripped of its ASF escort, with a heavy nuclear payload.

Then the CAF and Comguard forces clashed, lasers, missiles, autocannons, and PPC's lashing back and forth through the void as the two factions savaged each other. It was all over in scarcely more than the blink of an eye, the Comguard's velocity being vastly higher in order to allow them to overtake, and as they swept away, both forces had lost roughly equivalent numbers, the edge slightly in the CAF's favor, but nowhere near sufficient to make up for the numerical disparity.

The Comguard fighters immediately came about, and began to decelerate, hard, but so did the _Calvin Joliet_ and her escorts, expanding the time it would take for the two forces to close and re-engage, as well as the amount of time the _CJ's_ capital lasers would have to attempt to thin their assailant's numbers. The acceleration was still in the Comguard's favor, however, as well as the time it took the _Joliet_ to come about, and it would be less than thirty minutes before the next pass, and this one would leave only a few minutes before the Comguard forces returned for the last time, relative velocities close enough for genuine dogfighting.

The second pass came, and without the DCMS attack to break the Comguard's formation and firing plans, things went much more poorly for the _Calvin Joliet's_ protectors, their numbers cut down to just under six hundred, while the Comguard flotilla still numbered around eleven hundred. In the time between passes, the _Joliet's_ capital lasers managed to scour another double-handful of strike craft from the void, but not enough to make the difference. After the secon pass, the _CJ_ came about again, lengthening the time of separation again, as she accelerated towards the Nadir Jump-point once more, and her Dropships launched, moving into protective positions over her damaged dorsal hull.

Then the final approach came, and the battle began in earnest, the two forces making one head-to-head pass, before dissolving into a furious furball of interweaving dogfights. To both their boon, and their bane, the Comguard pilots were _very_ objective oriented, as had been pounded into them by their training, and one hundred and fifty of the strike craft broke away from the main engagement, moving to attack the _Calvin Joliet_ directly once her protectors were otherwise occupied. They ran afoul of first the defensive fire from the Dropships, and then the _Joliet's_ considerable point-defense weaponry. Dozens were destroyed, and a dozen more were crippled; in retaliation two dozen nuclear missiles were launched at the dropships, to attempt to clear the way.

Over the last century and a half, the CAF had spent a fortune on laser-based anti-missile systems, and the AMS attacked the incoming missiles with a vengeance. Unfortunately, the nuclear missiles were larger, and more heavily armored, than the AMS were designed to deal with. Fortunately, weight of fire made the issue irrelevant, and every last missile was destroyed before it could strike the Dropships.

This did not, however, prevent the Blakist ASF's from forcing their way past the Dropships, especially when one of the fighters equipped with a nuclear missile, and piloted by a particularly fanatical lieutenant, rammed itself into one of the Assault-configured _Mammoth's_, turning a quarter of the ship into radioactive slag, and much of the rest into ruin, killing most of the crew instantly.

Then the attack force came upon the large hole in the _Calvin Joliet's_ hull, and another two dozen were lost to the huge mass of fire that vomited out of the hole, courtesy of the Steiner and Davion mechs within. Their weapons, however, did not cycle in time to stop the _second_ wave to approach the hole, and they successfully penetrated the hull, and launched a half-dozen missiles. Three of the missiles were destroyed by the detonation of the _other_ three, but that still meant three nuclear detonations within the _Calvin Joliet's_ hull.

The combined explosive force of over one hundred kilotons instantly obliterated every Battlemech and Aerospace Fighter within the Number Three Hangar, tore the nose half-way off of the ship, and peeled the damaged dorsal hull like an orange nearly halfway to the back of the ship. The compartment was void of atmosphere, so the pressure wave caused by the detonation was blunted, but all of that energy had to go_ somewhere. T_he blast wave and vibrations tore up and down the ship, shattering the walls of almost every compartment, turning the forwards sections of the outer grav decks to so much twisted wreckage, and shredding a great deal of her industrial machinery beyond repair.

In the armored core of the ship, the blast wave struck like the hammer of an angry god, and though it did not manage to breach the innermost grav deck or core, the sheer percussive force smacked people around like rag dolls, killing thousands, and injuring tens of thousands. Worse, it jammed or crippled a large number of hatches and almost all of the elevators, which would prevent medical care from reaching the injured in a timely fashion, resulting in hundreds more dying from their wounds.

Outside of the ship, the forward quarter of the dorsal hull had been turned into so much shrapnel by the detonation, heavily damaging the Dropships that had attempted to protect her, and tearing the remaining Comguard ASF's in the immediate area to shreds, save a handful which were in the shadow of the CAF, ASSF, and LCAF dropships. In perhaps the only mercy the ship received, the primary engines were not damaged, though the detonation had driven the ship far off course. With her primary source of power still active, the Ventral and aft turrets were still able to fire, and fire they did.

For any other force in the Inner Sphere, Periphery, or Deep Periphery, firing into an intense, tight dogfight such as that being fought between the CAF and Comguard aerospace wings, would have been an exercise in folly. For the CAF, every bird equipped with a targeting computer and advanced data interlink, slaving not only ever LAM's, but also every _turret _aboard the _Calvin Joliet _into a single fire control link

The CAF, AFFS, and LCAF fighters were outnumbered three to two, but averaged a _much_ higher weight and armament per bird, and with fire support from the _Calvin Joliet's_ remaining turrets, as well as the differences in pilot fatigue levels, they came out ahead.

Barely.

((()))

When the Kuritan flotilla of strike craft reached the Comguard fleet, the engagement was as swift as it was brutal. Comstar had retrofitted much of the old Star League vessels with heavier anti-fighter weapons, but faced against over five hundred strike craft, with no ASF escort, it was entirely inadequate.

The DCMS strike force launched over one hundred nuclear weapons at the Comguard capital ships and remaining Dropships. None survived as intact warships, and less than a thousand total Comguard crewers would manage to escape.

((()))

Twenty-three LAM's, six Davion ASF's, and three Lyran ASF's survived the dogfight around the _Calvin Joliet_. None of them survived unscathed, and many of them barely counted as functional. Pilot mortality had been high, due to the nature of conflict in the void, and the fragility of pressure suits, on all sides of the conflict.

The _Calvin Joliet_, though, was safe, such as was left of it, and she made the course-correction to continue on towards the Nadir Jump Point, decelerating steadily at 0.8 gravities, the most she could manage safely with her damaged frame. She would overshoot the Jump-point, of course, but it would still minimize the amount of time it would take for relief forces to intercept her once they arrived in system.

Then the _second_ Comstar fleet jumped in-system, at the Nadir Jump-point.

((()))

"Jump," Admiral Dipak Vishram ordered, and the _CSS Heavy Metal_ jumped, Battlegroup One jumping after her a moment later.

Directly into the maximum limit of their range relative to the second Comguard fleet.

((()))

Aboard the _Dragon's Fang_, Theodore Kurita watched silently as three Battlecruisers, and twenty-four heavy frigates jumped into the system, and began tearing the second Comguard fleet to shreds. The Comstar vessels immediately began maneuvering to close with the CAF fleet, but they were all, every last one, crippled or destroyed before they could fire so much as a single naval laser.

"How did you know?" Tomoe Sakade asked quietly.

"I did not," Theodore said, "I simply asked myself which party was behaving more honorably, the charlatans pretending to be both pacifists and nameless pirates, who coordinated with people willing to attack a wedding while under a banner of truce in a time of peace, or those who have simply hidden their might, and fought to defend themselves?"

"Honor is clear in this case," Sakade murmured softly.

Theodore laughed harshly, before speaking again.

"It is," He said, "What is also clear, is that the Blakists would not have allowed witnesses not already in their thrall to escape, and thus honor and enlightened self-interest coincided."

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, before speaking again.

"And now," He said, "We must deal with the aftermath of this situation, and curry our support with the CTA, in hopes that they will prevent Comstar from destroying us with an interdiction as consequence of our actions."

((()))

AN: This took _way_ too long to write. Ironic that I feel that way, considering the relatively short time between updates; really, what's so aggravating about this chapter, is writing it was also the process of me getting over my writer's block, and forcing myself to kick 2k+ words out a day, despite very much _not wanting to_. Unlike a lot of fanfic authors, I'm attempting to become a career novelist, and was writing novels (as yet unpublished) before I started on fanfiction. So, 2k words is actually nowhere _near_ what I would considerable an acceptable daily output. I want at least 4-5k daily out of myself, when I'm in the authorial doldrums. When I'm 'in the zone' I can do that much in about two or three hours.

Still, I'm producing regularly again, so with luck, my update schedule will actually become respectable (by my own standards at least) again.

AN 2: ...And after I wrote the above AN, I went on to write another 3k words that night. Go figure. The next chapter will be the end of book one of this story, after which it will go on hiatus. Probably a _long_ hiatus. Don't expect to see any more at least until I finish writing Brutal Harry's sequel.


	8. Epilogue

AN: If there is not at least a little sad in this for you, I fail as an author.

((()))

August 18th, 3028.

System XXLI, near Terra.

Hulk of the _CSS Calvin Joliet_, Landing Bay One.

Melissa stared down at the deck of the landing bay, not really seeing the warped and damaged LAM's littered about. There were only twenty-three of them, and Isaiah Ivo's was not amongst them. Nor was he one of the pilots who had survived the destruction of his craft.

He was dead.

Melissa had come to know death, just a year before, at The Rock, and those deaths still haunted her, but none of them had been _personal_ like this. From the very first time they met, Isaiah had been a comfort and security for her, both emotionally and physically; their very _meeting_ had been motivated by his concern for her, before he even knew her.

And now he was dead.

Melissa had never known her father. He had died of cancer just weeks after her birth, and she had no living memories of him. Her mother had never become romantically involved in another man, much less married, and Melissa had grown up, in essence, without a father of any sort. Until Isaiah Ivo showed up and inserted himself into the role without even being asked.

And now he was dead.

Part of Melissa felt like focusing on just the one death made her a terrible person; thousands of the _Calvin Joliet's_ crew had died, most of them civilians, hundreds of other pilots had died, Comstar's first fleet had been all but exterminated, and the second had taken thousands of casualties before they admitted just how much the Caph fleet outmatched them. Janos Marik had been killed in the nuclear attack, his ancient body unable to handle the stress; Romano Liao had been shot through the head by her sister's lover. The bodyguards of both had been cut down, and taken more than a few CTA guards with them.

But Melissa had not _known_ those people.

More people were going to die, thousands at a minimum, perhaps _millions_ in total. The invasion of the Capellan Confederation was commencing at that very moment, Caph was preparing itself to make war upon the Capellans, the Free Worlds League, and Comstar, _all at the same time_. The Capellans, in particular, were in for it; Maximillian Liao had sent the major strength of his Death Commandos on an infiltration/assault mission to attempt the seizure of the _Star Metal_, the _Calvin Joliet_-class ship that had been doing business within his realm. It had failed, of course, Case Plaid authorizing the Industrial Ship to use her heavier armaments, and the Dropships carrying the Death Commandos had been destroyed before boarding action could even begin. Duke Gustafson, and Amanda Ivo, for that matter, had declared that the Capellan Confederation would cease to exist by war's end.

Melissa was crying now though, not because of the thousands who had died, or the possible millions who _would_ die, but because one man had died, one man who was _important_ to her.

She couldn't really bring herself to feel ashamed for that, as she wept quietly and watched the techies work the landing-bay floor.

((()))

August 18th, 3028.

System XXLI, near Terra.

Hulk of the _CSS Calvin Joliet_, Bridge.

"More than thirty-thousand injured or dead," Claire listed, "Half the industrial hardware out of commission, a quarter of it permanently, the Jump Core will need to be completely replaced, and it'd be cheaper to fabricate a new hull from scratch at this point."

"The _Calvin_," Amanda said sadly, "She won't be flying again. I don't think Junior will take this well."

"I don't think _anyone_ will take this well," Claire said, "Except for Cameron. He has a _list_ of upgrades to incorporate into the next design, from the keel up. He's pretty pissed off about all the casualties though. I know I am."

"I'm not too happy about that myself," Amanda said, kicking off from the nearest bulkhead towards her granddaughter, "Honestly though, my heart is more concerned about those who will suffer in the war to come."

"It's not like we're going to lose," Claire said somewhat harshly.

"No," Amanda said, "With the Suns and the Lyrans on our side, and the Combine sitting it out, it'd more or less take an act of God to make us lose this war. I'm not worried about the people of _Caph_ suffering. I'm worried about the Capellans."

"I rather assume you _don't_ mean Mad Max and his sycophants," Claire said flatly.

"Hardly," Amanda said with a snort, "You know though, that many of the Capellan nobles are going to expect suicidal loyalty from their subjects, and will be perfectly willing to pit militia with small arms against Battlemech regiments, if they think it will give them a chance at victory. There could be a _lot_ of death before this ends."

"Then stop complaining about it, granny," Claire said, "And get the Duke to put you in charge of the damn thing. By this point, I expect Melissa would badger Hanse into giving you overall strategic control, and I bet dad can get the Taurians to come in on the action as well, some of their old worlds are still under the Capellan flag, after all."

"Stop helping," Amanda grumped, "We can start working on fixing things later. For now I want to soak in the unhappies, so it will be out of the way later."

((()))

August 19th, 3028

System XXLI, near Terra

Aboard _CSS Heavy Metal_, _Jotun_-class Battlecruiser.

"I must say," Duke Gustafson said as he shook hands with Theodore Kurita, "I did not expect to find myself grateful to a Kurita, much less indebted to one, until long after Takashi Kurita was dead and gone."

"It is my honor to surprise you then," Theodore said formally, offering the ruler of Caph a small bow, which was returned with some interest, "I hope that whatever the Combine has done to earn Caph's ire, may be ameliorated by our more recent conduct."

"Caph, you say?" Gustafson asked curiously, "Not Caffeine?"

Theodore just smiled.

"Sharp," Gustafson said with a smirk, "Hanse figured it out last year, but he had the advantage of seeing one of our people react to the name being mentioned as a potential host site for the wedding."

He gestured for Theodore and his aide to take a seat in the small conference room they occupied, and then seated himself, a single armored figure standing behind him.

"I am, you could say," Theodore said, "A student of history. I understand that there was something of an affair between our nations involving a trio of _Scout_ Jumpships, and a Land-Air-Mech factory some hundred and twenty years ago."

"Indeed," Gustafson said, raising an eyebrow, "We have been keeping track of the character of the various Coordinators since that event, and none of them have been very encouraging to the concept of establishing diplomatic relations."

"My father," Theodore said calmly, "And most of his predecessors, do not understand that the other people's of mankind neither subscribe to our way of life, nor wish to. It is the unfortunate hubris of too many of the nobility to believe that all peoples instinctively desire to bend knee to them; they fail to understand that true leadership is _service_, not domination."

Gustafson leaned back in his seat, and eyed Theodore critically; the heir to the Dragon Throne was entirely calm and composed, the very image of the Noble Samurai. With some degree of surprise, Gustafson found that the image actually _fit_ the man, as near to perfection as he was capable of perceiving.

_I suppose_, he silently mused, _Every century so, one who _actually_ fits the ideal of the Samurai will come along._

"Caph pays her debts," Gustafson said, "And now that Comstar has played its hand, there is no need for us to remain in hiding any longer. What would you desire from us, in repayment for your defense of our people?"

"The Combine cannot afford to be left behind as the Inner Sphere modernizes," Theodore said, "I would be greatly obliged if you would send one of your Industrial Ships to conduct trade within our realm."

"Is that all?" Gustafson said with a grin, "I'll go you one better, I'll send you _two_."

((()))

August 20th, 3028: Accords are reached between Caph, the Lyran Commonwealth, and the Federated Suns, regarding joint assault upon the Free World's League and the Capellan Confederation. Terms include non-aggression on the part of the Commonwealth and Suns towards the Draconis Combine, and Caph sending two Industrial Ships to begin renovating the Combine's economy. A further offer of a mutual defense pact when Theodore Kurita takes the throne begins applying political pressure to Takashi Kurita.

August 21st, 3028: Comstar initiates an impromptu interdiction of the Lyran Commonwealth, Draconis Combine, and Federated Suns. The Interdiction is of limited success, as all Comstar facilities in said states are seized, roughly forty percent with the HPG's intact. CCI receives numerous lucrative contracts to restore communications as swiftly as possible.

August 22nd, 3028: Caph secures Taurian support for the invasion of the Capellan Confederation.

August 23rd, 3028: First invasion wave from the Federated Suns strikes the Capellan Confederation.

August 25th, 3028: Caph secures support from the Magistracy of Canopus for the invasion of the Capellan Confederation.

January, 3029: The majority of the Caph Navy strikes Terra, including 5 Battlecruisers, nearly forty Frigates, and over five thousand LAM's. The remnants of Comstar's fleet flees with a number of high-ranking Comstar personnel, while the Caph Navy cleans up what automated system defenses have been activated. Precentor Sharilar Mori formally surrenders Terra to Caph before the fleet even reaches Terra orbit.

February, 3029: The full weight of Caph, the Federated Suns, the Lyran Commonwealth, the Magistracy of Canopus, and the Taurian Concordat comes down upon the Capellan Confederation and Free Worlds League. The League, in the middle of succession, fares poorly against the moderate forces directed its way, while the Capellan Confederation begins to be systematically crushed by overwhelming numerical superiority, and often technological superiority, on every front.

March, 3029, Hanse Davion and Melissa Steiner engage in a shotgun wedding, Hanse citing that 'this way, no time for scheming.' This goes down in the history books as the beginning of a tradition.

April, 3029: The last mercenary unit serving House Liao breaks contract to escape the Capellan Confederation. The Northwind Highlanders are granted safe passage to and dominion over Northwind in exchange for remanding Tikonov to the joint control of Caph and the Federated Suns in good order.

May, 3029: The second invasion wave initiates; Thomas Marik has by this time managed to take control of the Free Worlds League, and is reasonably successful in repelling further incursions into the League. Capella is captured, Maximillian Liao commits a spectacular suicide, detonating a bomb that destroys the entire Celestial Palace, as well as nearly a Batallion of Caph and Suns LAM's.

July, 3029: The Capellan Confederation functionally ceases to exist when the Free Worlds League attacks its final flank, snapping up a handful of worlds while negotiating peace with the Sphere's other powers.

August, 3029: The Fourth Succession War ends. It has been the briefest, and most decisive of all the Succession Wars, for all parties involved. The end of the war does _not_ see a return of Caph merchant and industrial vessels to the League, the CTA's efforts instead focusing on Caph's 17 new worlds from the Capellan Confederation, Terra, and the Draconis Combine. The Taurian Concordat enters into negotiations with the Federated Suns to hold plebiscites on Suns worlds that historically belonged to the Concordat, in exchange for turning over an equivalent number of newly-captured worlds from the Capellan Confederation.

October, 3029: The plebiscites surprise all interested parties throughout the Inner Sphere (for different reasons), when three worlds abandon the Federated Suns in favor of the Concordat. Protector Calderon turns his attention to integrating these worlds into the Concordat's more advanced technological infrastructure, and the Concordat's developing colonial program.

January, 3030,: Peace, such as it is, settles over mankind in the sphere at large, as Caph begin releasing its medical technology throughout, and permits FWL vessels to enter its territory to trade, though still refuses to send its own vessels within League borders. The various nations focus upon modernizing and advancing their economies, industrial base, and militaries.

((()))

AN: Originally, I'd hoped that some more interest in this would spark, and I'd expand this epilogue a bit more. No dice. Still, I wanted to put this up before the end of the year, so here it is.


End file.
